


Acceptance

by grumpyprincess07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Tablet, Angry Dean Winchester, Canon Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, Hunters, Hunting, I've never written smut before, Leviathans, Magic, Monster of the Week, Reader Insert, Secrets, Slow Burn, Spellcasting, Supernatural - Freeform, TW eventual miscarriage, TW mild non con, Witchcraft, Witches, crowley - Freeform, demon tablet, maybe smut, mostly non con with love spells, supernatural fanfic - Freeform, tw murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-07-27 18:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 131,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyprincess07/pseuds/grumpyprincess07
Summary: You are the daughter of Bobby Singer, which is not all that it cracks up to be. Out of the Hunting game for so long, you are dragged back into the world after your father is killed by Leviathan. Only problem is, you're a witch. You can't let the Winchesters know or else all Hell is going to break loose. That's going to be a bit of a problem though when they arrive at your doorstep to fix a witch problem in your new town...Can you help them solve the mysterious deaths around town without arousing suspicion?





	1. The Embers Fade

**Author's Note:**

> Y/C/N: Your car name  
> Major character death  
> Mild spoilers  
> Eventual misscarriage, please be mindful if you have any pass trauma  
> Some non-con w spells
> 
> Thank you to Squibbles94 for proofreading my work and giving me such amazing advice and inspiration. Y'all should go check out her work. She is fabulous!  
> I will be uploading weekly!

You had always hated funerals. Being a Hunter, you’d been to your fair share, but this one was different. You hadn’t felt like this since your mom died when you were eight, and now here you were, at your father’s funeral. You look at the sign near the coffin: “In Loving Memory of Bobby Singer.” You look at the various Hunters who came to his funeral. The coffin was empty, everyone knew that. The Winchesters had already given him a Hunter’s burial, but their eyes were on it anyhow, almost expecting him to rise from it. 

There are no tears in your eyes as you stare at the coffin. There was a feeling of sadness, an understanding that your father was gone, but no tears. You hadn’t seen your dad in almost ten years. You had pretty much left the Hunting scene when you were 21. After that big fight, you left home, transferred colleges, and became your own person. You fought a few monsters here and there and kept doing some research; you didn’t want to get rusty. Once in a while, Sam would call you for some information. You were always better than the boys at getting your research done, although, over the years, Sammy seems to have left you in the dust. You weren’t nearly as good as you once were. And Dean, well, you hadn’t heard from Dean since you left. You seemed to have been ignoring each other for your own reasons. 

You look around the room of the local funeral home. There are a few chairs in front of the empty coffin; few chairs for very few people at this funeral. Most of the Hunters who knew Bobby Singer were dead by this point. You see Mackey sitting towards the front, his head down. Sheriff Mills was there as well. She had said a few words to you when she’d come in. You knew her from high school when she was just a police officer, having gotten into trouble now and again. That came with being a Singer. Your dad was known as the town drunk last time you checked. It seems Sheriff Mills was a Hunter too now and you find yourself wondering how that happened. There are a couple others, Hunters whose faces you vaguely recognize, but whose names you did not know. Except, of course, the Winchesters. 

You look up as Sam and Dean walk into the building, their heads bowed down. Sam WInchester, tall and strong; his hair was in need of a cut. Dean was much shorter than his brother. You used to tease him when they were younger about his height. You both were the same height for quite a while. Boy did it suck when he shot past you and you found yourself the butt of the short jokes. The boys’ faces were hard. Dean’s lips were pursed back, angry more than anything else. Sam seemed a bit skittish, his eyes showing signs of exhaustion. You felt bad for them. It might have been your dad who died, but Bobby was like their dad too, and they were there when he died. 

You feel a pang of guilt. They were there when he died. _Where was I?_ As they walk in, you run towards them, arms outstretched, and cling to the brothers, your arms wrapping about them. Since when did the boys get this muscular? You could have sworn they were pretty scrawny last time you had seen them. Tears threaten to spill over. You blink them back, scrunching your face. You wouldn’t cry. Not here. You can be stronger than this. With the boys here, you feel like it’s time to start. You walk up next to the caskett, looking out at the eight or so Hunters who came. 

“I know it seems silly, to be standing here, to say goodbye when there’s nothing to say goodbye to. And so many of us are gone now. But Bobby Singer was one of the best of us. He trained so many of us, was like a father to many of us. He died trying to protect us from those damn monsters out there. This isn’t just to say goodbye to my dad though, I gathered us to say goodbye to all the Hunters we’ve lost over the past few years.” You continue talking about how your dad cared deeply about hunting and his family, and go on about the good memories you have. The first time he taught you how to shoot a gun. How big his hands were when he held yours at your mom’s funeral. The first time he took you hunting. You didn’t tell them about the fight you’d had with him. About how he had kicked you out of the house. About how he had said you were a disgrace to the family. How you were just one of the monsters he was working to put down. That’s not the kind of stuff you say at a funeral. And you definitely didn’t want to tell a room full of Hunters what you were. So you continued to do what is normally done at funerals. You stick to the good things. A couple of Hunters go up and talk about your dad and other Hunters who had fallen. It was nice. 

After an hour of speeches and reminiscing, everyone started to become restless. They wanted to get back on the road, back to killing monsters and solving problems. You watch them talk shop, exchange info, and leave. Sheriff Mills said her goodbyes, gave her condolences and her number, “If you ever need to talk, I’m here. I understand.” She gives you a hug and leaves. All that’s left inside is you and the boys. 

“Thanks for calling me Sammy. I appreciate it.” 

“Of course. You deserved to know.” His voice was quiet.

“And thank you for giving him a proper burial.” You three stand there in the room, awkwardly. You hadn’t seen them in ten years after all, and while Sam didn’t seem to mind, you could feel the anger emanating off of Dean. You kicked the ground a bit. 

“I-  
“We-”

The three of you all speak at the same time.

“Sorry, you first…” Sam speaks up. Dean scoffs, looking away, his hands placed into his jacket pocket. 

“I want to see the house.” You speak up. Over the phone, Sam had said that it had been burned down. But you didn’t care. You had to see your childhood home. It wouldn’t really sink in until you saw it.

“We’ll take you.” Dean speaks up suddenly, gruffly, still not looking at you. 

“It’s fine, I’ll follow behind you.” You all walk out of the funeral home towards the parking lot. You watch as Dean walks towards the Chevy Impala, moving quick, his hands still in his pocket. You remember that car. It used to be John Winchester’s. You smile. You remember that Dean loved that car. It was good to see him in it.  
You look at your car. Nothing special. An old Honda Saturn. It wasn’t the best car, but she ran well. You followed the familiar road through Sioux Falls towards your home, “Sweet Caroline” playing on the radio. You turn it off. Too cheery for this. 

You pull your car up next to the black Impala, staring at the remnants of your two-story home. It was a cindered, burnt mess. You got out of your car, your mouth agape, staring at it. Dean and Sam walk up next to you. You just stare at it. You, your mom, and your dad were happy here, once upon a time. Then your mom died, and your dad changed. He became harder. Everything he did, he did it to get you ready for what was out there. He made sure you knew how to Hunt, but he forgot that you were more than just an apprentice Hunter. You were his daughter. 

You remember missing your mom so much in high school, wishing she could give you advice on dating and getting through the mess of being a teenager. You remember being so fed up with Bobby’s constant paranoia. You remember running into a group of kids at school who loved the occult. You knew so much about the supernatural, it became natural to hang out with them. It had started innocently enough. What better way to rebel against your Hunter of a father than by hanging out with the goth kids. They were into witchcraft and all that junk. But as you watched them dabble, you became intrigued. And you started learning whatever you could. You found you had an affinity to use magic. You were fantastic in fact and could cast a spell like it was nothing. 

You came to realize that magic wasn’t as awful as your dad had always told you. Sure, you remember the articles he showed you of witches gone bad, but you didn’t have to be one of them. Those witches made deals with demons. You could show your dad that you could be a witch and a Hunter. Or so you thought. You were out studying when you came back and saw him in your room. He had been going through your stuff! And he’d found the hex bags, the spell ingredients, the little book of notes on spells you were learning. 

“What the hell is all this?”

“Why’re you going through my stuff?

“I knew you’d been hiding something! But this? This is the kind of thing I taught you to kill!” 

The argument had only escalated from there, until he told you to leave. You’d packed your Saturn with whatever you could grab and left. And now, after ten years, here you were. The emotions you felt were overwhelming. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground, your tears flowing harshly. You were so angry and depressed. Angry at him for dying without ever accepting you. Depressed because you never got a chance to see your dad. It wasn’t fair. _Damnit!_ You think as you smack your fist against the ground, your father's last words echoing in your mind. 

You feel a strong hand on your shoulder, and a body kneels next to you. Dean isn’t looking at you, he isn’t saying anything, but his hand grips your shoulder tightly. You know he’s mad, and so that small gesture touches you more than anything else. 

“I’m sorry y/n. This is our fault.” 

“No it isn’t, Sam. It’s no one’s fault but Bobby’s.” You say, looking at the remnants of your home. The Winchester boys. You may not have spoken to them often over the years, but when you did, you noticed they’d developed quite the guilt complex. They tended to think everything was their fault. “I’m glad he had someone with him at the end. It makes me feel a little better.”

“What happened between you two?” Dean asked. Sammy coughed and gave him a look that said, “What the hell man?” 

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s between us.”

“I get that. I just thought…” You just thought that since we grew up together, you should know.  
You finish Dean’s sentence in your mind. His hand was still on your shoulder. You became very conscious of that fact the longer it stayed there. It felt good. Comforting. And then Sam spoke those words:

“He left you a message by the way. He wanted us to tell you he’s sorry and he accepts you, whatever that means.” You break down then. He thought about you in the end? He actually accepted that you were a witch? That feeling made you even more upset. How long did he feel that way? Why didn’t he say something to you, before he was dead? You had such hatred in your heart for Bobby Singer for so long, who knew that one sentence could completely undo that?


	2. The Witching Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time jump from season 7 to season 8. I know, really early for a time jump, but I just really wanted the character's reaction to Bobby's death without having to deal with the leviathans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished a little early and got overexcited. So I'm updating now! Hope you all enjoy the second chapter.  
> I'm really happy with how many people read the first one and I really appreciate it! :)
> 
> Y/C/N: Your car name  
> Y/N: Your name

It has been over a year since Bobby Singer’s funeral. Considering the world was turning, it seems the Winchesters had won out. You recall the last conversation you had with them as you ready your house for guests. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, hey, hey. You good there?” Dean’s rough voice said, his hand on your shoulder, gripping tightly and protectively. You rubbed your eyes, your head hurting and pulsing from the crying. 

“I get it’s hard. We’re here for you.” Sam’s voice was soft. They did understand. They were orphans too after all. 

“I’m good. I’m good. I just needed to hear that is all.”

“Still not telling us?” Dean always had to know everyone’s business. He didn’t need to share, but no one else could have their secrets, at least not anyone he considered family. Family shared. But family also protected. And you had to protect yourself. No telling what the boys would do if they knew. And you didn’t think you could handle seeing hatred in their eyes. 

“Fine. I get it. You got your secrets, we got ours.” Dean took his hand off your shoulder. You found yourself missing that strength the second it was gone.

“Dean, we should tell her.” Sam reasoned. 

“Nah man, she’s out of that life. Leave it be.” He said roughly, the words biting into you as he stood up and walked away. Sam was still standing behind you and when he saw you trying to get on your feet, he extended his hand. You took it gratefully and lifted yourself up, thanking him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, curiosity getting to you. 

“Leviathans.”

“You mean the sea monsters from Jewish mythology?”

“Close. Old monsters that used to live in Purgatory.” 

“Used to?”

“Yeah, past tense.”

“Is that what you and Bobby were working on when he died?” You saw Sam wince when you called him Bobby. You thought of him as your dad, but you hadn’t called him that in so long. It felt natural calling him by name now, especially when everyone else did. 

“Yeah. Guy named Dick Roman got him. I’m sorry.” Sam said. He looked at you. “I know you got out, but if you-”

“I did get out. And Bobby was right. This ain’t no life for me. I’ll be here if you need help on research, but I can’t go with you. I’ve got a life back home now. I can’t just pack it all up and leave. I’m sorry.” 

“What’d I tell ya man. Just leave it be.” Dean said, turning his back. Sam looked at Dean and then back at you. He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you.

“If you change your mind?” You look at the card, and there’s a phone number sprawled on the back. You flip it over. It’s a burger stamp card, buy 10 burgers, get one free. There are two stamps already on it, and that makes you smile. 

“I won’t, but I’ll keep this.” Things grow quiet again, the finality of your words hitting hard. Damn, it used to be so much easier to talk to each other. Why was this so hard?

“Still got that shitty Saturn huh?” Dean coughed out, almost robotically, cutting the tension that was building. 

“Y/C/N is precious and beautiful. She’s still running strong. She may not look like a beauty, but it’s what’s inside that counts Winchester.” You snap back.

“She ain’t got nothing on Baby.” 

“I’ll make you eat those words, ya idjit.” 

“Bring it bitch.” You missed that banter, as you both raced to your cars. You knew that there was no way that your Saturn was gonna outdrive Dean’s Impala. But it sure was fun racing back to the motel you were staying at. You were five minutes behind them when you caught up. Sam got out of the car, looking flustered, his hands raking through his hair. 

“What’d I tell ya!” Dean yelled triumphantly, his arms wide in the air. Something felt off though. Like you were both going through the motions, trying to force something that hadn’t been working well for years. You shrugged your shoulders, smiling awkwardly. 

“I got caught at a red light. Doesn’t count.” The conversation felt so familiar. You’re pretty sure you had had this conversation with him before. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Y/n, do me a favor. Stop challenging him. I can’t stand when he drives like that.” Sam says, shaking his head, putting a key in their room’s door. You nodded your head at them. They were in room 6, you looked down at your key at the black 16 that was marked on the leather attached to your keychain. 

“No promises Sam. So, uh, see you in the morning?”

“I don’t know. Dean and I have to get back on the road.” Sam replied sheepishly. 

“Yeah, you know. World to save.” Dean said aggressively, all of a sudden. You were taken aback. Sure, you might have been going through the motions, and you were all mourning, but it seemed a bit harsh. 

“Um, yeah. Okay. I get it. Just...be safe.” You replied. 

“Yeah. We’ll call you if we die.” Dean joked before walking into the room. It hurt. Perhaps you refusing to go with them on the Hunt upset them more than you originally thought. Sam looked at you. He walked towards you, putting his hand on your shoulder. He was so much taller than you. You had always been shorter than Sam, but when did he get that tall?

“Dean was the same way with me. He just can’t understand how anyone could not Hunt. He’s not like us.”

“Sam, you had a chance to get out. Would you ever take that chance again?” He signed, his hands back in his hair.

“Honestly, probably. Being out here with Dean, yeah, it’s great. But normal...Who am I kidding?” He smiles and chuckles bitterly. You look at him and decide to meet his honesty with a bit of your own.

“Between you and me Sam, I’m not completely out of the game. But I have my own town to protect. You guys protect the world. But someone has to be there for the little guy, yeah?”

“Yeah. Hey, I’ll call you when we win, ok?”

“Ok.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

Bastards never called. You think. You hope beyond hoped that they had won out. You are snapped out of your reverie by a doorbell. Your guests have arrived. You found that you had been staring at the mantle on your chimney. There are three pictures there. One of you and a laughing man together, his arms holding you. One next to it of that same man, in a tuxedo, holding your hand, with you in a white dress. And finally, one of Bobby Singer. That one was new. You look away from the pictures and walk to the door, opening it to reveal your friend, Sherry. She is a curvy, middle aged woman, about double your age, but with all the vitality of your youth. She is smiling and holds up a brown paper bag. 

“Brought the ingredients for the blessing! Sage, oak moss and sea salt, some feathers from a few of the ducks at the pond.” 

“Wonderful. Come in. Blessed be Sister.”

“High Priestess” You move aside and allow your first member of your coven to come inside. When you first came to this town, you were worried about what others would think of you. But you easily found several like minded individuals, and soon found yourself the leader of a five person coven. It was pretty cool. 

“Just place them in the living room. We’ll wait for the others to get the ingredients set up. They should be here soon.” You and your coven had been casting a ritual protection field around the town, every year, to keep monsters out. It wasn’t very strong, you were the most powerful among the group, having almost a decade of experience. The others only a couple of years or so of training. The field was strong enough to keep out weak monsters and spirits. You have had a couple of incidents with strong vampires and werewolves, and definitely your fair share of ghosts. 

You hear a knock on the door. That must be Tara; she hated the doorbell. You figure it probably has something to do with a past abuse. She hated anything with a bell or a ring, but she never brought up why and you never asked. Everyone had a right to their past. You open the door to let her in. She is a young, red-headed thing. Tiny and sweet. Her face is somber and her eyes look tired. She had lost her boyfriend about a month ago, a member of their once 6 person coven. She was still getting over the heartbreak. Tara smiled softly, holding out a glass dish which you assumed had her popular chicken pot pie in it. 

“Come in Tara. Blessed be. How are you?”

“The winds bring a change.” She said quietly. “The town is out of balance.” Tara was a Natural. And she had a sensitivity to the fates. She had felt something wrong a couple of weeks before her boyfriend, Louis, died. Anytime they had come across each other since then, she had said something to that avail, that there was something off about their town. 

You let her in, and as you do, you see Morgan walking towards you. Tall, pale, lean, black hair. She screamed witch. She wore all black as she walks towards the house, her lips pulled back into a huge grin. 

“Blessed be, High Priestess.” You hate it when they call you that. It seems so formal. 

“Blessed be Sister.” You are all in the living room. You listen to Morgan and Sherry speak to each other as you go through the kitchen, preparing your own signature dish. You hear the doorbell ring once more.

“Morgan, stay with Tara. I’ve got the door.” You hear Sherry call, knowing that Tara probably panicked from the sound of the bell. You hear people saying hello to each other, and then you hear the voice of Trevor and Carla, the last two members of the coven. It was predominantly female. Sherry’s husband didn’t really get the whole witchcraft thing. He let his wife have her hobbies. Sherry had told them that he thought it was just some weird kind of book club. They all enjoyed that greatly, and had named their coven after that idea. The Supernatural Book Club. 

With the whole crew there, you gather everyone in the room. You look over all of the ingredients. You have the coven’s Book of Shadows and cauldron, Trevor brought the white candles, Carla brought the myrrh, various herbs, and the white crystals, Sherry has her supplies. You look everything over.

“Perfect. Food and then spell casting? Catch up since we haven’t seen each other in almost a month?” They all agree with you. You all sit down to the dinner, enjoying each other’s company. Tara is quiet, as usual, looking serenely at everyone. Morgan and Sherry are animatedly speaking to each other about the new spells they’ve been researching. You, Trevor, and Carla are discussing the local business, as each of you own a small business in the town square. 

When you finish dinner, you all move to the living room once more. You set up the cauldron and fill it with water, light the fire, and begin to boil the water. Behind you, your coven prepares the various ingredients and setting up the candles on the pentagram fabric. You measure out the herbs and start dropping them in, stirring as you went. You open the Book of Shadows and begin the evocation of the four elements and the Spirit as you stir. The coven behind you chants lightly, asking for protection and evoking light. You always loved this ritual. It made you feel whole and new and safe. The candles are lit around you as you arrange the crystals. The five of you hold hands, and continue chanting for protection of your town. You were just getting into full force when there was a loud and rushed knock at the door. 

Everyone freezes. You all stop chanting and just stare at the door, dumbfounded. It was a little past 10 pm, in a sleepy town. Who would be banging on the door at this time of night? The door is banged again. 

“Y/N! You home?” Sam?

“Come on now! Wake up!” Dean? Oh shit!

“Pack it up!” You whisper urgently at everyone. The coven starts to scramble to put everything in bags. Tara blows out the candles. Morgan puts out the flames under the cauldron and covers it with the fireplace cover. Sherry is gathering the herbs and crystals and placing everything in the paper bags. Carla is trying to clean any extra remnants. And you, you are shitting bricks. What in the hell are the Winchesters doing at your home? You never told them where you lived. 

You look at the dining room table. Nothing was really cleaned up. Good, that could be an excuse. You walk towards the door and turn around to make sure that the living room is a modicum of organized. Nothing seems to remain of their ritual, and you use your head to indicate that the rest of the coven should head to the table. They all rush. If this hadn’t been such an intense moment, you would have found the entire situation quite comical. 

You open the door. There, in the flesh, are the Winchesters, looking travel worn, as if they’d been driving for the better part of the day. They were wearing jeans and flannel shirts, the same black and brown jackets you had seen them in months earlier.

“No need to take my door down. You nearly scared my guests half to death!” 

“Oh, sorry. We, uh, weren’t sure if you were out, or sleeping.” Sam said, looking down, guiltily. 

“With that knock, you’d wake the dead.” Everyone stops for a beat. You suddenly remember the last time you saw them was Bobby’s funeral…

“No waking. Dead stay dead here. Yep. Dead. I smell food.” Dean suddenly speaks up. He sort of pushes past you, into your house.

“No, of course. Come in.” You say sarcastically to Dean, and then move out of the way for Sam. He nods his head to you.

“Thanks. And sorry about that. We’ve been driving here for 10 hours.”

“I get it. Go ahead. There’s plenty of leftovers.” You close the door and watch as Sam joins Dean at the table. Dean was already making himself a plate. You look at your coven, warily eyeing the Winchester brothers. You almost giggle at the fear in some of their eyes. You have told them about Hunters in the past, about how these grizzled strangers would catch wind of monsters or magic and kill first, ask questions later. You always tell the group that you would protect them, since no one with the Supernatural Book Club used demonic magic. You didn’t tell anyone in the group about the Winchesters, but you could tell that they were all thinking the same thing. Hunters.

“Gang, this is Sam and Dean Winchester. They’re childhood friends. My dad, Bobby, pretty much adopted them. Boys, this is my book club.” You smile a little and the group collectively relaxes. “Tara, Sherry, Carla, Trevor, and Morgan.” They all collectively say hi. Sam mouths the word hi, raising his hand in the air, the other hand in his pocket. Dean says hello, but his mouth has been stuffed with Tara’s pot pie. You shake your head at Dean’s lack of manners. Men. 

“Well all, I think it’s time to pack it up. I’ll email when we can meet again, yeah? I should probably get these two settled.”

“No, it’s fine. We can, uh, come back in the morning.” Sam says. Dean, whose cheeks are full of food, looks up at his brother, his eyes saying, “the hell we are.” The others, however, are all agreeing with you, feeling very uncomfortable. You hear as each one of your coven members all start making their excuses, “oh, it’s getting late.” “My husband…” “My cat!” “It’s a bit of a drive.” and such. 

You grab some of the things from the living room, suddenly realizing that you have a potion stewing in your fireplace and two witch-hating Hunters in your dining room. Frick! You look at Morgan, your eyes wide, as she grabs her bag from the living room along with the others. Her eyes widen in recognition, although she does not know the true situation you are all in. 

“Distract them. I’ll dump it.” She whispers. The others seem to see what they are doing and begin “cleaning” the living room of their mess. You walk back to the boys.

“They’re just going to clean up the room before they go and then we can talk in private, yeah?”

“Yeah. Sounds good. This pie is fantastic.” Dean says between bites. You look to Sam, who is eating far more carefully and politely than his older brother. But Sam is facing the hallway, meaning he would see when Morgan comes through with the full cauldron to leave through the front door. 

“Sam, really? That’s all you’re eating. Look at all this food we have left. Come on now man!” You admonish him, piling food onto his plate. He is looking at his plate as you do so, and you wave your hand behind your back to tell the others to move quickly. Dean is still distracted with his plate, and Sam is distracted by you. Perfect.

“Really Y/N, I’m fine. I’m fine.” 

“Nonsense. The more you eat, the less food goes bad in my fridge.” He splutters in response, and Dean chuckles. 

“Better do as mom says.” He advises his brother. Mom. Ugh. You remember how often Dean used to call you that whenever you became “overbearing.” Normally, you played into the charade. But you felt a pang of sadness, pain, and something else? Embarrassment? Why that?

“Bye Y/N. We’re all cleaned up. See you dear.” You hear Sherry’s voice call from the front door, and it closes. The house goes quiet. You can only hear the sound of metallic forks scraping across porcelain. The silence stretches on and on. 

“You ever going to tell me what you’re doing here? Or better yet, how you got here?”

“You gave the funeral joint your address sweet cheeks.” Dean says, his cheeks full with food. Damnit!

“That’s supposed to be confidential.”

“Supposed to be. You can’t help us being protective. We sort of stole it. Just in case.” Sam said. You groan. 

“You’re both ridiculous. Just ridiculous. You could have asked. I might have actually told you.”

“No you wouldn’t have.” Sam said quickly. No, I wouldn’t have. You cared for the boys, but you were always so worried about them discovering your secret. You prefered that if they wanted to get together, you met them instead. 

“And you’re here why?”

“Witches.” Dean responded, putting his fork down and looking at you straight in the eye. _You have to be kidding._


	3. Son of a Witch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some character deaths in this arc, so if you have lost a loved one, please be aware that there will be a character mourning in this chapter as well.
> 
> Thank you all for the kudos and the comments and the bookmarks. It makes me feel real special that you are enjoying this so much. I worked real hard and this is my first real fanfiction that I've written. It means the world to me. Thank you again for the continuous support.

“Witches?” You say, trying to keep your voice calm. “What do you mean?” You rack your brain, trying to think back on any articles in recent news. There’s no way there was anything significant. Was there?

“We were just looking through a few newspaper clippings, and we saw your town’s name a couple of time.” Sam was trying to sound casual, as if it was no big deal that they were stalking your town news.

“Same type of deaths, four times in a row, over the past couple years. Come on now.” Dean was more abrasive. 

“Alright, start from the beginning. Details, please?” You start clearing the table as Dean explains what he and Sam found. 

“Sam was looking for a case, something for us to do in between… just in between.” He took another spoonful.

“I noticed a newspaper article about a guy who got hit by a drunk driver. And apparently the driver claims he hadn’t been drinking.” Sam continues. You think back to about a month ago. Tara’s boyfriend was hit by a drunk driver. You recall that Tara had said the driver claimed to have been driving straight home from work and hadn’t been drinking at all. But of course some drunk would say that. Anything to not end up in jail. His blood alcohol levels were through the roof. Poor Tara. You nod your head, taking the dishes to the kitchen to start cleaning and putting them in the dishwasher. Dean raises his voice from the dining room.

“I know what you’re thinking! I thought the same thing when Sammy brought it up. Asshole is lying through his teeth. But then we kept looking into it. There were three more just like this. One seven months ago, and one close to a year and a half before. And then we found another one almost three years ago. Every six months, some poor sap gets hit by a drunk driver who swears that they weren’t drinking.” Dean and Sam are at the doorway of the kitchen, their dishes in hand. Your hands stop washing, and they are shaking. You can’t stop them. 

Dean walks to your side to dump his dish in the sink for you to wash, Sam following behind. He notices your hands. 

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” You stare out into space, a memory flashing past your eyes. A phone call telling you to identify a body. His face, bruised and bloody, on a cold metal table. The man crying, begging you for forgiveness, his words screaming in your ear, telling you that he was sober. ‘I don’t drink! I can’t drink!’ And you not caring what he says, your eyes still on the corpse. That image burning into your mind. 

“Y/n?” You snap back to reality. Dean and Sam are right next to you, Dean’s hand on your arm, gripping tightly. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Sam’s voice asks gently.

“Sorry. Can you both handle this?” You ask them, looking at the dishes and then storming out of the room, water dripping from your hands. You hear the water splashing as one of the boys starts washing the dishes and then a pair of footsteps following you. You speed up, trying to make your way back to your bedroom, but a strong arm pulls you to a halt.

“Now hold up there sweetheart. What’s going on?” You look up at Dean’s eyes. There was a softness in them, and you relax briefly. You turn to look into the living room, at the pictures on the fireplace. Of him. Dean’s eyes follow yours.

“Oh shit. That’s one of the guys.” 

“Alex. He died a year and a half ago. Drunk driver.” You say softly. Alex, your late husband. Normal. Accepting. He thought your ability to use magic was a gift that should be shared and nurtured. 

“I’m sorry.” His grip on your arm squeezed tight, and then loosened. The grip comforted you, a reminder of when you and the boys had been much closer. You find yourself missing the older days once more. 

“You’re sure it was a witch?” You ask him.

“I’m telling you, there’s a pattern there. It’s gotta be a witch. Or maybe a ghost? A drunk ghost.” 

“Maybe.” You reply softly. You’re not feeling all there all of a sudden. How could you not have noticed a pattern? 

“I’ll help.” You say to him, your eyes filled with determination.

“What, now you want to help?” Dean scoffs. You could almost see the immediate regret of his words when he said it, but that didn't mean he hadn't said it. 

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you not want me to help? Because if that’s the case, you both could have blown into town and stayed in a motel. We didn’t have to even see each other while you were here.” You burst out. Maybe you’re being oversensitive, but he started it! He was the one being an ass and you just had to be told that, somehow, there’s a rogue witch who may have murdered your husband. You feel like you have a right to be a bit pissy. 

“Yeah. Well. We thought we could get a place to crash. You know, family and all.” He avoids your eyes.

“Ah, so you’re just using me for a bed. Well, fine. There’s a bed down the hall and the couch becomes a bed in the living room. Knock yourselves out for all I care!” You scream at him and walk towards your room. You hear a deep voice yell back, "Yeah, well, maybe we will!" And you slam the door, picturing it hitting him in the face. Screw you Dean Winchester. You close your eyes for a second, willing the tears to go back up into your eye ducts. You refused to cry again. You mourned your husband. You mourned Bobby Singer. You are a big girl and you will get over this. You shake your head and start undressing, grabbing your pajamas and going about your nightly routine. What you need right then is a good shower!

You hear voices from the living room as you step out of the joined bathroom, shaking your wet hair out, wondering whether you should even bother drying it or just go straight to bed. Sam and Dean were probably debating on who would get the couch. That, or they were still regrouping, discussing the case. You smile bitterly to yourself, picturing the boys playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would get what. You hear Dean cry out in anger. Seems Sam gets the bed tonight. _Good._ You think to yourself. 

You lay down in bed, thinking about what Dean was saying. If there was indeed a rogue witch causing trouble, it was up to you and the coven to put them down. How dare they come into your town, under your nose, and cause trouble. But then again, how could you not have seen the signs? You find yourself thinking about Alex. If you had just been more observant, you could have caught this witch ahead of time! Three years, Dean had said. Three damned years and you never once connected those deaths. You had let yourself go soft, you realize, and allowed the "normal" life to dull your Hunting sense. You start to cry softly to yourself, as you begin to come to the realization that it was your fault he died. You now had three deaths on your conscious…

As you lay in your bed, you hear footsteps coming towards your door. Your body goes rigid and you flick your wrist at the door, quickly, and it locks. Last thing you want is to speak to anybody, especially Dean. You listen carefully as the footsteps stop outside your door, your eyes trained on it. The doorknob gently jiggles, as if he is testing to see if it’s locked. You listen as he sighs and places a fist against the door. There is a beat of silence. You wonder how long he plans to stay there for when he finally walks away from the door after what seemed like a minute. You sniffle, and try to fall asleep, but your mind is haunted by your mistakes and by the curiosity of which brother was outside your door. When you finally fall asleep, you are plagued by nightmares the rest of the night. 

Dean’s POV

If Dean had known that it was someone close to her, he would’ve been more delicate. He might have been mad at you, but he wasn’t outright trying to hurt you. He looked at the pictures on the mantle. There were two of you with that man, Alex. Something hits him, gnawing at his stomach. Dean can’t place why, but looking at the pictures of you with Alex makes him upset. But what is this feeling? Jealousy? Dean isn’t sure why he has that feeling. It hits him suddenly though, making sense when he thinks about it some more. Of course he was jealous. Here she was, having gone off and lived a life that he himself had once wanted. Sam had done the same thing over eight years ago when he left the family to go to college. He almost got married and didn’t tell anyone anything. And then Sam had done it again with that Amelia chick. He had been to Hell and back, and Purgatory and back. Damn it, he deserved to be told shit. 

He then looked at the picture next to it. Bobby. Dean was still conflicted about Bobby having been back. He was happy to see his surrogate dad, but watching him become more like a poltergeist was awful. And then there was his refusal to tell him about the fight he had with y/n. But he shouldn’t take out that frustration on her. 

“So, do you need help?”

“With what?”

“Getting your foot out of your mouth.” Sam smirks at his brother.

“Shut your face. She started it.” 

“Uh huh. So now what?” Sam asked, looking at the pictures on the mantle. He grabs one with you and Alex in it. “Isn’t this…?”

“Yep. Apparently, one of the guys who bit it was her husband.”

“She got married?”

“Apparently!” They can hear the shower turn on across the house. Dean and Sam discuss what their plan is going to be from here on out. Dean suggests the usual, pose as agents and ask around. The locals have to have some information and if they don’t, asking questions will at least smoke the witch out. When they finish making some sort of plan, the boys just look at each other. 

“So, who’s taking the couch?” Dean asked.

“How about the one who managed to piss off the owner?” Sam smiles cockily, as he heads towards the guest room. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold it. Not so fast little brother. Get back here. We settle this the old fashion way.” 

“I don’t think there’s enough booze in the kitchen.” Dean laughs softly at his brother and puts his fist out. 

“You’re on.” Sam puts his fist out. They shake their fists three times. Both rock. They shake it again. Both scissors. They shake it again. 

“Damnit!” 

“Scissors cuts paper Dean. Good night.” Sam waves at his brother and walks away. Dean looks around the living room and then back to the pictures. He places them facing down, not wanting to look at any of them. Then he looks at the coffee table in the middle. He wasn’t sure which of the two couches had the bed, and to be honest, he didn’t really care. He jumped on the bigger of the two, kicked his boots off, and stared at the ceiling. He hooked his arm around the pillow behind his head, feeling something hard. He sits up and looks under the pillow. 

“The hell is this?” It’s a pale white stone, twisted in a weird shape, sort of like a crystal. _But there's no way she’s into this crap._ He dismisses it for the moment and places it on the coffee table, thinking to himself about everything that had been happening. The house seemed to settle and grow quiet. As it did, he grew more and more guilty about what he had said to you. He groans and gets out of the bed, making his way to your room. As he does, Dean swears he hears a door lock.

“You have got to be…” He breathes out to himself. He walks to the door, carefully, and places his hand on it, testing the lock. _She locked the door on me? Really?_ He sighs, disappointed more in himself. He goes to knock on the door, feeling like he should probably apologize or something. But before he can do that, he thinks to himself, _the hell. She was just as much in the wrong. She’s the one who left and kept where she lived a secret!_ His fist comes to rest on the door, imagining that you are there on the other side of the door, just as frustrated. Dean just waits there, frustrated at you, frustrated at himself, and frustrated that he’s got to sleep on the damned couch. He scoffs to himself, laughs for a second, and then walks back to the couch. 

“Screw this.” He says, laying down and closing his eyes to sleep. He was tired of others moving on without him.


	4. And it Turns Back into a Pumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late! I worked all day and then had to take a trip to another town for the evening to celebrate my grandmother's birthday! Didn't really have time or access to a computer!
> 
> But better a day late than never right?!
> 
> Thank you for continuing to support me! I appreciate it so much!

Despite being angry at him, and you were royally pissed at him, you did feel bad about him sleeping on a pull out bed with nothing. You wake up around one in the morning, restless and dripping in sweat. That was a particularly bad nightmare, as you watched your husband get hit, unable to scream out to warn him, a faceless figure cackling at you from the darkness. They leapt onto a broom and flew off, taunting you to save the others. The cackle echoes in your ears as you get out of bed and quietly leave your room. 

You grab a blanket from the linen closet between your room and the guest bathroom. When you sneak into the living room, you see that Dean didn’t even bother to pull out the bed and was laying down on the couch, his feet on the arm rest and his boots haphazardly thrown on the floor. You shake your head at the man’s laziness. You put the quilt blanket on him gently, trying hard not to wake him, 

You stare at his face, moving back from the couch a bit. You hadn’t really gotten a good look at him in almost a decade, since you were in college. You were too distracted at the funeral to really notice how much he's changed. His face was much more full than it used to be, more masculine and strong. He had a shadow of facial hair and the same military short hair cut. His lips were pulled into a scowl and his eyes squeezed tight; whatever he was dreaming about, it wasn’t pleasant. He had always been handsome, but now... Wow! You blush thinking about it, and almost as if he could sense your embarrassment, his face relaxes and he has a smile. 

Such an asshole. You think to yourself. He had always been an asshole, ever since you were kids. As you walk away, you recall a memory from when John and Bobby had gone Hunting and left Dean in charge of you and Sam. Dean was thirteen, you were ten, and Sam was nine. You had been upset because you wanted to go on the Hunt too, as Bobby had then been training you for a year on how to Hunt. 

_“Stay here and stay out of trouble” Bobby said as he closed the door. You stared at the door for several minutes. Sam, who was much taller than you, tugged on your arm. You pulled it back, your hands balled up into fists._

_“It’s okay Y/N. They’ll be back soon.” Sam said. “I’m sure they’ll be okay.” You whip around, tears brimming in your eyes and your face red._

_“That’s not why I’m upset! Dad has been training me for a year. I’m ready. I want to help!” You yell back angrily. Dean is laughing at you from the sofa chair in front of the small television set._

_“What are you laughing about?”_

_“You aren’t ready to hunt a vampire yet. Don’t be stupid.”_

_“I can too!”_

_“Oh really?” He jumps up off the couch and starts walking fast towards you. You square your stance and raise your little fists. He stops, when he sees you’re serious and smiles._

_“Well, you just going to stand there looking pretty?” You challenge him. His stance changes in response, becoming more serious and less teasing. He squares his body, but his arms remain at his side._

_“Dean.” Sam says. Sam was smaller than Dean still and he had less skill than his older brother, but, despite that, Sam stood next to you, his fists also raised._

_“Hey Sam, wanna help me kill this vampire?” You ask, and he smiles at you. You both rush forward, and you all start tumbling into a mess of fists and feet. Dean says he gives as you lightly slam his chest to the ground, Sam holding onto his feet, and you each take turns being the vampire, with the other two being a Hunter._

_When it was time for bed, Dean came to check on you in your room. He picks up the picture frame next to you on your bed stand. He sits on the bed, looking at the picture of your mom, smiling out and holding a younger version of you._

_“You look like your mom.” He says, not looking away from the picture. “Do you miss her?”_

_“Every day. Dad says I remind him of her. That’s why I want to join him on Hunts, just like she did.”_

_“Yeah, well don’t grow up too fast short stuff.”_

_“Don’t count me out Dean. I bet one day, I’ll be even better than you.”_

_“Keep dreaming there princess.” He squeezes your hand and leaves. You look at the picture next to you and think to yourself, just you wait Dad. I’ll show you one day._

You look at that same picture, still next to your bed stand. You really did grow up to look just like your mom. There was very little Singer in your face. Guess you never did get a chance to prove yourself to your dad...

You recall that Dean had always been an asshole, but being older, you realize that he could also be sweet. He antagonized you that time, sure, and had made you really angry, but on the other hand, by being an asshole, he had gotten your mind off of being left behind. He had actually done a sweet thing. You also have a nagging suspicion that he held back in that fight. 

Dean had always been there for you. He took you to homecoming when you were in high school. He had beat up Chris, your douchey ex-boyfriend who didn’t take no for an answer. You remember calling Dean from the bathroom and within an hour, he was at the diner and you were being whisked away. He had taken you on some small Hunting trips too, whenever Bobby and John went off on their own. You will deny it if anyone ever asked or brought it up, but you definitely had had a crush on Dean Winchester as a young teenager. The rest of your dreams are filled with Dean Winchester that night and you don’t really give a damn as you settle in, smiling at your memories. 

You’re awake before the boys are and you head to the kitchen to start breakfast. You start brewing a pot of coffee on the stove and crack a few eggs onto a skillet. You don’t know why you’re making enough eggs to feed everyone, but you are. Perhaps you feel a little guilty for locking the door on Dean. Or perhaps for not helping them with the Leviathans last year. You throw a couple bagels in the toaster and a few slabs of turkey bacon on the skillet next to the eggs.

“Do I smell coffee?” You hear Sam’s voice behind you and nearly jump high enough to touch the ceiling.

“Jesus Sam!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He replies sheepishly. You point to a cabinet which contains the coffee mugs.

“You can make up for it by pouring me a cup.”

“How do you take it?” You tell Sam how you like your coffee and he hands it to you as you pour some milk into the egg mixture, fluffing them up. 

“Dean awake yet?” You ask. 

“Not yet. We stayed up later than you did.” You nod your head at him and serve him a plate of eggs, turkey bacon, and a bagel. He thanks you and you both walk to the dining room, which is pretty much part of the kitchen, but separated by a half wall. 

“So, what happened with the leviathans?” You ask suddenly. “You never called me.” He swallows quickly, and you can see something behind his eyes. Embarrassment? No. Shame? Maybe.

“We won.” He replies tersely. 

“I can see that. I saw Dick Roman’s death in the news. Had a party knowing my dad’s murderer was taken down.”

“Yeah.” 

“And the past year? I know we don’t stay in the best contact, but I did try and text you and Dean. No one ever answered.” You hear movement in the kitchen, but you can’t see past the half wall. Perhaps your voices woke Dean up?

“Dean was busy. And I sort of turned off my phone.” Sam’s face turns red. 

“You turned it off?”

“Yeah, I-”

“The hell is this?” You hear Dean from the kitchen.

“Eggs, bacon, and bagels.” You call back. Dean comes out of the kitchen with his plate, a piece of bacon in his hand and his mouth chewing.

“This ain’t bacon.”

“It’s turkey bacon. It’s better for you.”

“Screw that.” He says, sitting down and tossing the bacon on the plate in disgust.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it. This is my house, not a restaurant.”’ Dean opens his mouth to say something, but Sam speaks up.

“Thanks for breakfast Y/N. We appreciate it.” You nod your head. There is silence as everyone is eating, your fork playing with the eggs on your plate. The silence is long and excruciating. 

“Four victims, yeah? The first one was Alex. The most recent was Louis, Tara’s boyfriend. Who were the other two?” You ask, straight to business, needing to break the silence with anything. You weren’t really sure who they could be referring to though, as there were a couple of deaths in the past few years. Hit and runs were pretty common after all. 

“That would be Bob and Clint. Let me get my laptop and I can show you the articles.” He moves to get up, and you do the same. 

“Uh, I’m going to get dressed real quick.” You’re still in your pajamas, an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts with a robe tied closed to cover yourself. You didn’t mind being in your pajamas in front of the boys as much as you did not want to be left alone with Dean. Dean wasn’t dumb, and you are pretty sure he gets that, because he scoffs and mutters something under his breath. You notice he is still in the same clothes from last night, as is Sam. 

When you get back, dressed in jeans and a plain black tee that you grabbed quickly from your drawer. Sam and Dean are pulling up the research. You recognize Bob. He used to work at the large grocery store near the town square. He was really sweet. You tell the boys this. They ask you if you recognize Clint, but you tell them that you don’t. You only knew Bob, and not by name, because he used to help you find exotic ingredients and would put in special orders for you. Your curry hasn’t tasted the same since. You feel a twinge of guilt. You didn’t even know his name. You knew he had died a little over a year ago, but you hadn’t really looked into how he died, nor even his name. One day he was working, the next, he was gone. You hadn’t thought twice about it and just went on with your life. 

“To be honest, only two of the victims have a connection. This town really isn’t that big, so it would easily be a coincidence. Why don’t you guys get your suits on and interview family of the victims?”

“What’s the connection?” Dean asks.

“Oh, uh, Tara and I, I guess. Tara’s boyfriend and my late husband.” The room goes quiet. You hope that Dean does not pry any further. You would prefer not to go into detail as to how you and Tara know each other. 

“Why don’t you come with us?” Sam suggests. “You’re a local, sort of. They might be more inclined to talk to us if you’re there.”

“Sam, that’s also the problem. I own a bookstore here. Why would I be helping the FBI? I’m pretty sure you’re going to have enough questions to deal with the fact that the case is a month old. You don’t want me hanging around, trust me.” You were also getting real tired of Dean’s attitude.

“Yeah Sam. Why would Y/N want to help?”

“Not helping Dean.” Sam says before you have a chance to snap back. 

“Gather the information you can, and we can meet back here when I get off work. I’ll be able to help you then. If there’s a witch here, I can help you put the connections together. Bobby taught me quite a bit about witchcraft.”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan” You go to a drawer in the kitchen and grab your spare key. 

“Here.” You toss it to Dean. “That’s a spare key to my house. If you boys finish early, you can chill here. There’s beer in the fridge. And there’s vodka and whiskey in the cabinet.”

“I’m sorry, you had whiskey and didn’t tell me?” Dean said. You point to a cabinet behind him and the dining table. It’s your small liquor cabinet that Sherry had bought you for your wedding. He got up and walked over, pulling out one of your whiskey bottles, mercifully a cheap one. He pours some into his coffee cup. You and Sam just stare at him as he does this.

“What? You have your vices, I have mine. Down the hatch.” He says happily and takes a swig. Bobby had also developed a drinking problem later on. You know the signs of a man who has seen a lot. You’re not sure what trouble Sam and Dean have gotten themselves into over the years, but if you manage to survive this, you’re going to find out. 

“Anything else you need from me?” Sam replies no and you go to leave the room. Dean follows behind you and stops you before you get to your bedroom.

“I, uh, feel like I should…” He trails off, not meeting your eyes. 

“You should what Dean?” You snap, a little warily. He puts his hand on the back of his neck and looks like he’s about to change his mind about what he was going to say, when he finally burst out:

“Thanks. I should say thanks. For the blanket I mean. I figure that was you who put it on me last night?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your face softens and your body relaxes. “I realized that I didn’t tell you where the spare blankets and pillows were. I felt a little bad.”

“Well, thanks again. And for the food. And the whiskey.” You smile.

“Apology accepted Dean Winchester.”

“Woah, hold up. I didn’t apologize for a damn thing.”

“Close enough. Don’t deplete my liquor, or I’ll gut you.” You walk into your room and close the door before he can respond, feeling a little happy with yourself. He may not have said the words sorry, but in his own way, you could tell he felt bad for how he was treating you. Saying thanks was a start. 

You exit your home, locking the door behind you. The boys are taking a shower and shaving, to look more like FBI agents. You haven’t really told your coven anything new, but you wish you had told them that the Winchesters were FBI agents the previous night, to help with the charade. You just have to hope no one asks too many questions. If memory serves, most people didn’t. 

You had changed once more before you left the house, opting for a long, flowing blue skirt to go with a plain black tank top and a new-age style head wrap. It went along with the vibe you had for your work. You drive to the town square, the local classic rock station blasting Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama, and park across the street from your store, The Family Business. It was a wink to the Hunting life. You’d have a few Hunters grab some occult books from the back section every so often. And sometimes, if you felt like you could trust them, you’d sell them specific herbs that they would need to craft their minor spells to stop monsters and ghosts. Always had to be minor. Anything more heavy duty and they would think you were one of the monsters they should be hunting. 

You liked your store. You had purchased it about five years prior. You had been out of college, having earned a degree in the occult studies and a minor in business. You had come across the town while chasing down a ghost. Nasty bugger that had possessed some antiquities. That was when you had met Alex, saved him from being decapitated by his roommate. It was scary how quickly you both fell for each other. Within a year, you were living together, married, and running a bookshop. You had told him everything about your life. He had thought your magic was an incredible gift and had supported your Hunting, even coming along on a few of the less dangerous ones. You smile remembering the first time you took him to gank a vamp. You’re still convinced he peed himself a bit. 

You turn the music on in your store, this time picking a country station to play, for the locals to enjoy. You didn’t really have a lot of customers, it being a small town. You had to sell more than just books. Thankfully, being a witch had more perks than just being able to cast spells. You sold a lot of homeopathic remedies, as well as hand made soaps and perfumes. Those were at the store front and was the main source of your income. Well, that and selling magic items to members of your coven and any randoms blowing through town. 

You had a few regulars come in to buy their week’s supply of soaps. One of them was Trevor. He owned a tools shop with his brother across the way; he normally bought your soap to put into his store’s bathroom. 

“Hey Trevor!”

“Hey Y/N. How was it after we left?”

“It was fine. Real random them popping up like that.”

“Are they, well, you know?” Having had Hunters come through before, you always warned the others to be careful with how they used their magic. Your coven had strict rules on hiding their supplies and ingredients, as well limiting use of magic whenever a plaid-wearing stranger came into town. What is it with every Hunter only wearing plaid?

“No, they’re FBI. They have a case down here and they figured they’d save the bureau money and stay with me.”

“What’re they here for?” His eyes got wide and he came close to the cashier’s table. Juicy gossip was common for a town this small, and an FBI investigation was as juicy as you could get.

“Come on Trevor, you watch TV. You should know they can’t tell me. The usual?”

“Yeah, and I was just hoping.” You ring him up and give him the soaps in a paper bag, saying goodbye and asking him to give your best to Carla. Trevor and Carla had been dating for close to a year now. Them being together made you happy, because, for a time, Trevor seemed to have a crush on you. It made you a little uncomfortable. He never tried anything, since you were with Alex, but you were really happy when he moved on to Carla. 

Hours went by and you periodically checked your phone in between rearranging the books, updating the stock supply, and checking the books. You had made sure that Sam had your phone number in his cell phones and had asked them to keep you updated. So far, nothing.   
You were in the back unloading copies of Twilight, a popular sell, when you heard the store bell ring, letting you know customers had just entered. You go to say welcome, when you see two striking men in suits. The Winchesters. What were they doing in your store? 

This was the first time you saw them in their suits. Hot damn. The boys wore black, fitted suits, and you could see the strength in Dean’s muscles much more acutely than before. He looked so sharp and put together, his hair was combed and he was freshly shaven. There was an unexplainable twinge in your chest, one you hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

“Anyone here?” Sam’s voice called. 

“What kind of person calls a book store, The Family Business?”

“The kind that sells books that deal with family businesses.” You say, coming out from behind a shelf. “There’s a section meant for Hunters when they come through.” Dean stares at you. He obviously had not known you were the owner. You continue to feel his eyes on you, and you suddenly become very aware of your hands. What should you do with them? Should they be on your hips? Or at your side? Maybe pick up a book? 

“What brings you both here?”

“We had been interviewing Bob’s family when his son told us to check out the Family Business. We had asked him the usual questions: cold spots, hex bags, enemies, all that. He said that if we were looking into a magic angle, we should try here, since it’s the only place in town that sells anything like that.” Sam explains. 

“Didn’t think you’d be the hippie dippie kind of person.” His eyes go to your display of crystals and homemade soaps. “Explains why I found a crystal on your couch.” Crap!

“Yeah, well. Bobby taught me a bit about it, and I got my degree in occult studies. Besides, you sell what you can to make money. It’s a small town and I need to appeal to my consumers.” You say quickly. Sam starts wandering to the back of the store. You realize you hadn’t closed the door to the store rooms. Inside the store room, there’s a small room where you keep all of your potion ingredients and a few grimoires. You start making your way to it when Dean stops you.

“You know, it would make sense for you to be into that stuff. You always did like that magicky crap when we were younger.”

“Huh?” Your head snaps back to Dean. “Oh yeah. Well, it was the most fascinating. And had the most amount of rules and structure.” You strain your necks, looking towards the back at Sam, who seemed to wander to the opposite end towards the books reserved for Hunters. 

“Structure? Hunting is messy.”

“There is more to learn and fighting something that uses magic takes more skill than just lobbing a machete.” You tease him, your attention now on Dean Winchester.

“Hey, aiming takes skill.” He feigns offense, his eyes alight. You notice how beautifully green they are, with just a speck of hazel to draw you in. 

“Yeah, okay. What did you learn about Bob?”

“Well, his wife said he didn’t really have any enemies. It was like you said, he was a nice guy. A lot of people in the town liked him. He was a manager at that grocery store’s bakery and was supposed to be retiring in a couple years.”

“Yeah, Sherry worked under him. When he died, her assistant manager got promoted to the managerial position and Sherry ended up the new assistant manager.” 

“Who’s the manager now?”

“Lady named Natalie I think. Why? You don’t think she killed her boss for a promotion?”

“People have killed for less.” 

“Yeah, but this is a small town. And he was going to be leaving soon.”

“Well, it’s motive for now sweetheart. I say we roll with what we got.” 

“I guess, but-” You hear a clatter come from the store room, interrupting what you were saying. _Shit!_ You were supposed to be stopping Sam from snooping. He must have moved his attention away from the books. 

“Hey Dean! Get over here.” You try and run to the back, Dean close behind you, obviously in Hunter mode now. _Shit, shit!_

When you turn the corner, you see Sam looking into your smaller store room, filled with hex bags, potion ingredients, grimoires, crystals, candles, and cauldrons. His gun has been pulled. _Shit, shit, shit!_

“Sam.” You plead out, but he turns to look at you with his gun drawn.

“Holy shit.” Dean’s voice comes from behind. You hear his gun holster unsnap and when you turn around, his gun is also drawn, and you know he’s got witch killing bullets loaded. And there, in his eyes, is the look you had hoped you would never see. Hatred, disappointment, and pain. The same eyes Bobby had when he looked at you. Dean, and Sam, looked at you like you were a monster. It killed you inside.


	5. Season of the Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween lovely readers!
> 
> I'll put you out of your miseries with that last cliffhanger! Here's how you react when Dean and Sam find out your dirty little secret.
> 
> Y/H/T: Your Home Town, if you want to use it. I did picture this as a small town though, but I want you to feel as immersed in the story as possible, so y'all can choose! :)
> 
> There is some potty language in the fic, more so than usual, and there is a portion that has been likened to coming out stories and how that doesn't end well. So there may be a trigger warning there? I just want you all to be aware, because we all have our own lives and our own struggles. 
> 
> I just wanted to continue to thank you all for the support. It makes writing this fic a lot of fun. I've been cranking out ideas for this and working really hard and editing it as often as I can to make sure it is absolutely perfect for you all!
> 
> Once more, thank you Squibbles94 for constantly proofreading my work. You all should go and search up her stuff. She is a fantastic writer!

“What the hell is all this?” Dean yells out.

“Don’t you dare point those at me.” You growl out, your hands to your side, palms facing down and fingers spread, ready. 

“Not until you tell us what’s going on.”

“Put the gun down so we can talk!” You shout, Sam’s gun lowers a bit, but Dean’s does not. In fact, he cocks the gun.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” You whip your hand and the gun flies out of Dean’s hand. Sam’s gun is now pointing at you again, and you whip his from his hand too.

“You’re a witch.” Dean says, almost not believing himself. You’re breathing heavily; exerting your telekinetic force puts a strain on you. The Winchesters are also breathing heavily, neither moving, but both with their eyes on their thrown weapons. 

“I am a witch.” You confirm to him. Your hands are outstretched, ready in case the boys do something to hurt you. 

“How could you keep that from us?” Dean’s voice is full of fury, it going down almost a full octave. You have never heard it that deep or angry before. 

“How? Easily. My safety is important Dean Winchester!”

“Safety? Safety! The safe thing would be to not have gotten involved in magic at all. It’s a drug Y/N! The more you use this shit, the more you get hooked on it. You know that!”

“That’s if you consort with demons. I don’t Dean. Everything I do is natural.” You try to convince him.

“Natural? None of this crap is natural. Damnit. This is dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous! Just listen to me!”

“Listen to you? You used magic on us!”

“You pointed your gun at me!”

“You’re a witch!”

“Yes. A witch. A normal, everyday, run of the mill witch. I’m not a monster!”

“Witches are monsters!”

“Dean!” Sam yells. You begin to see red. 

“Don’t call me that!” 

“No wonder Bobby said you didn’t belong with Hunters.” It was like something snapped in your head. Those words were enough and it broke your heart. 

“Get out.” Your voice deepens as well, and you’re staring daggers at Dean Winchester. A certain calm washing over you as that anger slowly sets in. “Get out of my store or I’m calling the cops.” Dean scoffs and you flick your hand at one of the bookcases, causing several books to fall near Dean and forcing the man to jump out of the way. You didn’t realize there was something past anger for Dean. His hands balled into fists and you could have sworn that he was going to come at you and you are ready for the fight. Instead, he just looks at you with indifference, seemingly fed up with this all. Dean walks out, leaving his gun behind. You hear the door slam open and the bell ring.

“You too Sam. Grab your guns and leave.” Sam scrambles to grab his things, walking past you, avoiding your eyes. You hear the ringing of the door and quiet settles on the store. It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart shattering. Up until now, you had an illusion of family, that Dean and Sam were still in your corner. Sure, you all didn’t talk to each other and weren’t nearly as close as you once were, but you were always sure that if you needed them, they’d come to you. But Dean and Sam were ready to kill you. Their guns were drawn, cocked, and pointed right at you. Even Bobby couldn’t shoot you, but the boys didn’t seem like they were going to think twice. Dean’s hands were steady. 

You close the store early and walk away, purpose in your eyes as you head towards the lake. It’s about a seven minute walk, one you had made several times, and the scene just replays in your head, along with Bobby’s argument. It tortures you, like a bad movie on repeat. The words echo and you slowly spiral as it eats away at you. Monster. Witches are monsters. You’re a monster! You try to yell back at the voice, to tell yourself you’re not a monster. You do good things with your magic. You protect your town, your people, and your coven. Magic can be a source of good, no matter what the Hunters might think. No matter what your family might think. But a small voice answers back that it was magic that killed those men, in your town, under your nose. Your magic didn't help you then. Your magic wouldn't help you now either...

You sit on a bench, looking out at the water. It was late afternoon, the park would soon be overrun with children playing after school. You’re not really sure where to go from here. Dean and Sam are probably at your house, ready to shoot you the second you walk in. Or worse, they’re not there at all. Your phone starts to ring and you look at the caller ID.

“Sam?” You whisper, disbelief that he actually called. This has to be some kind of trap. 

“Hey.”

“Hey?” There’s silence on the other line. If you weren’t so afraid, you would find the awkwardness funny. “Listen, if you’re trying to trace my call-”

“No, no, that’s not it!” He whispers quickly.

“Yeah, ok. If you really want to know where I am, you could just ask.”

“Listen, I’m not trying to trace your call, I’m just trying to be subtle here.” The voice whispers out.

“Dean?”

“Yeah Garth, we’re still working that case in Y/H/T.” His voice suddenly becomes louder.

“I’m at the lake near the town square. Come unarmed.”

“Okay. I’m going to investigate our next lead.”

“Whatever.” 

You hang up and wait for Sam to show up. You should probably cast a protection spell or two, but not having any real ingredients with you except for some Spanish moss hanging by the tree, it just seems like a waste of time. Besides, you feel so broken, you aren’t really sure you care if Sam was just coming to set you up. You hear some twigs snapping behind you and turn around quickly. The rapidity of your movement also freaked out your company, because you see Sam frozen, one hand out to you and one on his waist. 

“You brought a gun?” Your eyes narrow, and it sounds more of a statement than a question, as you are sure you already know the answer.

“Sorry, force of habit.” He physically relaxes. 

“I said unarmed.”

“Safety's on, ok.” He shows you as he clicks the safety on.

“Where’s Dean?”

“Only place he had to go back to.”

“So, still in my house? You sure you’re okay with staying in a known witch’s house?” You spit out, like acid. He winces in reaction, as if your words had a physical sting. Good, you hope he’s uncomfortable. He isn’t sitting next to you, but standing a foot to the side, looking out at the lake.

“You have to understand, it was a shock.”

“No, what is shocking is having two guns pulled on you by people you grew up with. By people who I was supposed to consider family.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He says quietly. You soften and let out a sigh.

“And I’m sorry too. Using magic at the time probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”

“No, I get it. You were scared.” There’s a beat of silence. “How long?”

“Have I been studying magic? About thirteen, fourteen years.”

“Woah.”

“I started as a junior in high school. You and Dean weren’t hanging around as much. And Bobby was becoming such a pain. I started hanging around the goth kids at school. I was a natural. Bobby and I had to put one of them down though. She got into some really dark stuff.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. But that was when I realized magic could be evil, but it could also be good. I was determined to use mine to do better. To be better.”

“And Bobby?”

“Caught me when I was 21. He found my stash of herbs and crystals while he was going through my drawers. We got into a shouting match and he said…” You take a deep breath. “He said I was one of the monsters he taught me to hunt. But he couldn’t bring himself to take me down, so he told me to leave. ‘God help me Y/N. Get out and hope you never come back on my radar.’ I packed up my things and left.”

“Why didn’t you call one of us?”

“And tell you what? ‘Hey Sam, Dean, can I crash on your couch for a week? I came out of the witch closet to my dad and he kicked me out.’ Yeah right. I was fine only having one person hate my guts.”

“He didn’t hate you. He felt awful for what he said to you.”

“Well thanks, I know that now. But now it’s too late.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He sat down next to you. You take his hand and he squeezes it lightly.

“Thank you.” You rub your eyes, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks. “So, I wandered from place to place for a bit, taking a few Hunting jobs here and there. I ended up in this sleepy little town on a ghost case. Next thing I know, I have a house and friends and a job. Got all respectable. Had what some would describe as a ‘normal life.’” You air-quote with your free hand. 

“I can understand that.” He then tells you a bit about his life at Stanford, about how he had lost his fiance and was thrust back into the Hunting scene. You had wondered what had brought him back into it. You had heard rumours, but you felt sorry for Sam. It must have been tough losing his fiance that way. He then tells you about Amelia, who he had spent the last year with. You listen to him talk about how much he loved her. You ask him why he left in the first place. Your heart genuinely breaks for him when he talks about how her late husband showed up from the dead and how Dean had shown up again. Sam tells you he had a second chance with her just the other week, but he placed his priority on Hunting and on Dean.

“I’m sorry Sam. That’s not an easy decision to make.”

“Yeah. Well, I made it. Hopefully, she hadn’t shown up either.” Something tells you that she had though. Call it woman's intuition, but you kept that tidbit to yourself. 

“What do you mean Dean randomly showed up?”

“Well, I thought he had died killing Dick Roman, but it turns out he got sent to Purgatory instead.”

“Wait, like _the_ Purgatory.”

“Yeah, for a whole year.”

“No shit. No wonder the dude is all pissy.”

“Yeah. Well, he’s upset that no one ever looked for him, especially me. It’s why he’s so mad at you.”

“You mean before or after?” You joke.

“Seriously. He felt real betrayed when you left.”

“I was kicked out.” You say, exasperated.

“We didn’t know that. All we knew is that you packed up and left one day. Didn’t really contact us or let us know you were safe. And then you went out and had a normal life. I’m pretty sure Dean is resentful of that. I have a feeling that all Dean wants is a chance at a normal life. But his never worked out.”

“Sam, none of us had a full chance at a normal life. I’m starting to think there’s no such thing for us Winchesters and Singers. I can change my name, but I can’t change my blood.”

“You took your husband’s name right? We figured it was just an alias.”

“No, my husband’s. Figured I should hang up Singer. But, since you told me that Bobby accepted me, I’ve been thinking about changing it back. Something about it all seems right.”

“You should. Y/N Singer. Flows real well.” You smile at him. You see parents showing up with their children to the playground. It has to be around four in the afternoon now. 

“So... I feel real bad about asking this, but…” He trails off, his hand scratching the back of his neck in discomfort.

“Spit it out.”

“You didn’t, you know?”

“You’re an ass, you know that? No, I did not use my magic to kill off my husband and three other people.”

“Right. Right. Sorry, I just had to ask.” You’re both quiet again and you can see the next question forming in his mind. “Those people who were with you last night?”

“Members of my coven. I can assure you that they’re all good people. We protect the town together. When you and Dean showed up, you caught us in the middle of a protection charm to ward off evil spirits and monsters.”

“Oh, you can do that?”

“I can. Listen, not all witches are bad. Borrowers are. They’re the ones you’re used to killing because they’re the ones that can’t keep a low profile. They make deals with demons to get power. They’re the ones who become addicted to magic. There are good witches out there.”

“No, no. I get it. I mean, a month ago we let a female werewolf go.”

“A werewolf? Those things eat people and you’re pointing a gun at me!” You punch him lightly in the arm. 

“Okay, okay. I get it. We messed up.”

“Yes, you did.”

“But you have to understand, things have been real intense for us lately.” Sam tells you about the demon tablet and the prophet, Kevin. He also explains how the tablet can seal demons back into Hell, and how they’re racing against Crowley to try and figure out how to do that. You are beyond shocked to hear about angels being an actual thing. You always thought that it was possible that they exist, considering demons do, but never thought you would actually hear of them working on Earth.

“Jesus Sam, that’s a lot.” You realize, right in that moment, that you really don’t know what has happened to them over the past ten years. They have gone through their own sets of trials and tribulations.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I have to ask, Sam. If you and Dean are off chasing this tablet, why did you stop here to help?”

“Because, you’re family Y/N. No matter what.” He smiles awkwardly at you and pulls you into a half hug, his arm around your shoulder. One down. One to go. You have a bad feeling that Dean is not going to react nearly as well as Sam did.


	6. Double Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for updating so late! I work two jobs and didn't get home until late. 
> 
> It's a short chapter, but it felt like a perfect stopping point. 
> 
> Please keep in mind that there is some heavy moments here. Trigger warning: miscarriage
> 
> Hope you all enjoy it!

You and Sam share a nice moment together, but you both know that inevitably, you would have to go talk to Dean Winchester, the more stubborn and angry of the two brothers. You both drive back, Sam in the Impala, you in your Saturn. You unlock the door with Sam following right behind you. When you walk in, you see Dean at the kitchen table, two bottles of whiskey and a shot glass in front of him. One bottle, the cheap one, seems empty. But he’s slowly been working his way through your Jack Daniel’s bottle. I’ll kill him, you think to yourself. Dean looks up as you and Sam walk through the door. He meets your eyes, looks down at the bottle, and takes another shot. 

“You know, maybe you should both talk alone. I don’t think he has his gun on him either.”

“Jee, thanks.” You don’t really want Sam to leave, as it would be nice having a buffer if you both start arguing. But with how Sam is carrying himself, you can tell that is exactly what Sam does not want to be. 

“What, it’s not that late. I’m going to go speak to Clint’s family. I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t kill each other.” Unfortunately, it’s a good excuse, so you let him have it. 

“I can make that promise. Can Dean?”

“I don’t think he’d… I’ll be back soon.” He leaves, shutting the door quickly behind him. You take a deep breath, try and steady yourself, and then walk to the table. You take a seat, and look to Dean. Right when you’re about to speak, Dean stands up.

“Dean, wait.” 

“Nu’uh.” He says, grabbing the bottle and shot glass.

“Dean, I asked you to wait.” You flick your hand and summon a bit of that telekinetic energy, forcing him back down in the chair. You don’t hold him, just a light push, same as if you were using your hand. And the second you do that, you realize you made a mistake. Dean is pissed all over again.

“I know you did not-” His voice is deep, ragged, angry. 

“Please, just stop.” You take a breath and grab the shot glass from Dean. He lets it go without a fight, taking care to avoid touching your hand as you reach. You pour some whiskey and take a shot of the liquid courage. It looks like he’s about to speak again when you raise your finger, pour another shot, and take it down a second time. Now. Now you’re ready to speak.

“I understand that you are beyond pissed at me. And I am so sorry for using magic on you. Especially now. But I need you to listen to me. Please. Just give me that. Out of respect for the twenty plus years you’ve known me, just listen.” He folds his arms and leans back, his focus on you now. Those intense eyes staring into you, waiting. 

“The world isn’t black and white, not the way John or Bobby made us believe. I know you’re mad at me for not telling you I’m a witch. But can you blame me? We were raised to shoot first, ask questions later. To believe that anything that has to do with the supernatural is evil. And when Bobby found out what I was, he kicked me out and I was on my own.”

“You seem to have done just fine for yourself, princess. Meanwhile, Sam and I have been out there actually doing something.”

“Fine? Fine? Dean, you don’t know anything about what I’ve gone through these past ten years. Just like I had no idea half the crap you and Sam have put up with. So let me enlighten you, because life hasn’t been easy. First of all, I haven’t given up hunting. I just adapted how I hunt. I hunt within my area and I use my magic to take down vamps and werewolves and ghosts. So I’m not out of touch and I’m not living fancy. I just found a place to settle in is all.

“Second of all, what makes you think I’ve been sitting pretty? What, because I had a husband and a house? Guess what Dean, he died. And now I know that he was murdered. And this house? Not mine, it was Alex’s parents house, which they’ve let me stay in because they feel so bad for me. They could kick me out at any time. You want to know what else? Three months before Alex got killed, I had a miscarriage.” Dean jumps at that. The tense air begins to dissipate and you see pity in his eyes. Dammit, you hate it when people give you those eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. It was my fault. I was four months, almost five. I wasn’t showing much, so I thought I could still Hunt. Things went bad. It was just a routine ghost. Simple salt and burn.” He’s staring at you now, and you see his hands twitch. “But things got rough and the ghost showed up at his grave. That never happened before. Next thing I know, I find myself being slammed face first into a mausoleum. Lost the baby then.” You wipe away the tears at the memory. Life isn’t always easy. Sometimes you can’t get everything the way you want it. For you, you did what most Hunters did. You put the job first. It’s why you almost completely gave up Hunting the past three years. They brought up such painful memories. But now, by putting off those Hunting skills, you’ve allowed more death to happen. You add four more names to the list of people whose death you feel responsible for.

“Y/N, I...I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine Dean. I’m not telling you this for your pity. I just want you to understand what I went through as well. And I hated not being able to talk to you both about everything. But if I called you, if I kept you updated on everything, I would have had to lie about things, omit parts of my story. And I couldn’t do that. I hate how things are right now between us. I see the tension between you and Sam and the three of us aren’t as close as we used to be. I didn’t want to keep everything from you Dean. I swear. I love you both so much. You are everything to me. I didn’t want to lose you, so I figured at least this way, I still had the illusion that we were all still connected.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us? We would’ve understood, rather than finding out this way.”

“Would you have? I mean, look at how you reacted when you found out? You didn’t even let me explain. You just pulled a gun out on me!”

“I mean, you didn’t exactly tell us anything either. It surprised us.”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me the way Bobby did. Those eyes, the words he said. He looked at me like I was a monster, like I had killed his daughter. It was the way you looked at me when you saw all of my supplies. It’s the way you’re looking at me right now.” You say that last sentence quietly, it hurting you the most to admit. His stance was more open now. And when he realizes what you say, his eyes soften too. 

“Dean, we’ve known each other our whole lives. This is me. Just because I’ve got this juice, doesn’t change who I am or who I was. Dean, look at me. I’ve been a witch for over 10 years. I was a witch when you knew me in high school. I was a witch when I went on those hunts with you freshman year of college. I was a witch when I left. I’m a witch now. So, it all depends on you. What are you going to do Dean? You can leave and let me deal with this alone. We can work together. Or you can kill me. I won’t stop you.” You stand up straight, looking at him. You know he has witch killing bullets in that gun of his, if it’s even in the house. And you mean what you say. You would rather not die, but you don’t want to hide anymore. Besides, the Winchesters are the only family you have left. If they’ve given up on you, what’s the point? And so you just stare at Dean, waiting for his decision.


	7. Something Wicked this Way Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some actually sleuthing happens this chapter!! Can the you and the boys figure out who's been doing all the murder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I worked a long shift yesterday and completely forgot about updating! I may start moving to updating on Thursdays instead of Wednesdays since Wednesdays are so busy for me. Love you all! Almost getting to the end of this arc. So excited!

“Dammit Y/N.” Dean slams his hands on the table, the bottle of Jack shaking, spilling a bit. He stands up quickly and you can’t help but flinch. You refuse to look away though, no matter what his decision is. He grabs at his waist and pulls his gun out. You say a prayer to the Goddess and wonder if you’ll see Bobby after you die. After all, Sam said there were angels. If there were angels, there had to be a Heaven. You ponder that thought as he throws the gun on the table, turning his back to the table and running his hands through his hair. 

“What?” You stare at the gun, confused. 

“I can’t shoot you. Dammit, I would never shoot you. It’d be like killing Sam. And I can’t do that.” He turns away from you, refusing to meet your eye. Your entire body relaxes. You hadn’t realized how stiff you were until you released the tension that had built in your body.

“I really thought you were…”

“Maybe if you were actually evil, I could have. But not you. I could never willingly hurt you.” He turns around and looks you in the eye. There’s something tender there, and you feel a tightening in your throat and chest. Your heart is pounding so hard, you can hear it in your throat. It has been so long since you had this feeling. Dean is slowly making his way towards you, a magnetic pull bringing you close as well. His eyes are still looking at you, deep, searching. You stand in front of each other, unsure of what he is about to do, unsure of why your body just reacted on its own. 

“Dean? Y/N? You both alive?” Sam’s voice calls from the front door. You both start and jump back from each other. _What the hell was that just now?_ You ask yourself. 

“In here Sam.” Dean calls, his voice deep and hoarse, his eyes still not leaving your face and you shiver at the intensity of his gaze. There’s an electricity between you two, despite the distance now. He finally breaks contact with you once Sam’s footsteps can be heard approaching. He stops at the doorway.

“Everything okay here?” He asks, a little wary. You and Dean are standing about two chairs apart, and both of your bodies are tense and there is an air in the room that is very off, like Sam walked into something he probably should have, like a potential murder. You aren’t really sure what was about to happen either, to be perfectly honest. 

“Everything’s fine. I think. Dean?” 

“I’m not done with this, and I don’t agree with it, but we have a rogue witch killing people out there. So I guess we’ll put it aside. For now.” You nod your head and take a seat at the chair, grabbing the Jack Daniels bottle and pouring another shot for yourself. Dean goes to take the shot glass after you, but you pull back.

“You’ve had enough. That other bottle was over half full when I left this morning and you’ve made a dent in my good whiskey. I’m cutting you off.” You pass the bottle to Sam, but he declines the bottle. 

“You’re still a buzzkill.” Dean says. “What’d you find Sammy?”

“Well, I spoke to Clint’s family and they said that he didn’t really have any enemies. They said Clint was bullied a bit in high school, and that he didn’t get along with one of his co-workers at the store, but other than that, nothing that really screamed murder worthy.”

“So, back to square one.”

“Not exactly, I did see this.” He rummages in his pocket and produces a picture of the victim. In it is a young, hispanic woman with thick lips and curly hair. Carla.

“That’s Carla.”

“One of the members of your coven right?”

“Coven?” Dean asks and you suddenly realize you never told him who all the people were from the previous night.

“Now, don’t get mad, but remember the group of people from last night?” Dean crosses his arms and nods warily. “Well, they’re my coven. And I’m sort of the leader, the High Priestess.” Both Sam and Dean gawk at you. 

“You?”

“Well, I’m the most experienced witch in the group. And I founded them, so yeah. High Priestess.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Dean says, looking just a little peeved. 

“We don’t do anything crazy. It’s like I said earlier, we hunt monsters, protect the town, all light magic. I don’t allow anything dark here in my group.”

“Alright, well now all four victims have something in common.” Sam says.

“They all knew members of my coven.” You whisper and then it hits you. You groan, your head in your hands. This really was your fault. You should have noticed this sooner!

“Was there anyone you rejected from your group?” Sam asks, trying to give any other option. You shake your head no. 

“Hate to break it to you sweet cheeks...” Dean starts.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s probably one of mine.”

“Any idea who?”

“The first victim was Alex, my husband. The second victim was Bob, Sherry’s boss. The third victim Clint, Carla’s friend. And finally, Louis, Tara’s boyfriend.”

“None of the victims were related to Trevor or Morgan.” Sam adds.

“Which one is Morgan?” Dean asks.

“The one in all black.” You reply. 

“If there is anything that screams witch gone bad, it’s that.” Dean says quickly.

“No, there’s no way it’s her. She’s honestly the sweetest thing. The girl is a vegan!”

“Now I am convinced it’s her. Freaking hippies.” 

“Dean.” Sam says sharply. “What about Trevor?”

“Well, he’s dating Carla now. But when he first joined the coven, I’m pretty sure he was hard core flirting with me, despite the fact that I was engaged to Alex at the time.”

“And the other girls?”

“Well, Trevor was a bit of a flirt. And now that I think about it, Sherry did say she used to have a thing for her boss at the grocery store. But she eventually married her current husband Harry, who manages the stock room. And Carla was planning on moving away, to get her business degree, but then she decided to stay and started dating Trevor not long after. She must have stayed because of Clint’s death.”

“Y/N, I’m starting to think your boy is bad news.”

“I’m starting to think the same thing.” And you see red. If it was Trevor who was casting this magic, then he is the one who killed your husband. The rage that fills you surprises you and you can suddenly understand what could make a witch go very very bad. 

“Hey, calm down there Y/N.” Dean’s voice comes out of the red.

“I’ll kill him.” You can feel the magical energy pooling around your hands, flowing through your veins. 

“Now be calm. It might be him, but it might not. And you have to control yourself.” Sam’s voice reasons with you. You don’t care. You trusted Trevor. You invited that bastard into your home. You shared a meal with him. You feel a hand on your shoulder and a voice call your name. You slowly snap out of it, your breathing relaxing. You look at Sam, who is looking very nervous. Dean is at your side.

“You good there Elphaba?” You snort at his reference. 

“Really? You know Wicked?”

“Hey, Idina Menzel is a treasure.” Sam laughs and shakes his head at the two of you.

“Sorry. I have a handle on it. I’m good now. I know where Trevor lives. Let’s go pay him a visit. 

“Fine, but I’m driving. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I prefer you ride with us.”

“Don’t trust me Dean?” You ask, a little hurt.

“We never finished our conversation. Besides, I don’t trust you to keep your emotions out of this.”

The three of you leave the house and you climb into the back of the Impala, leaning back and trying to keep your mind from going to a dark place. You have had to kill monsters and witches in the past, that isn’t anything new. This is different though. Now you might have to kill someone you considered a friend. Back in high school, you didn’t strike the final blow against Astrid. Bobby had done that. He figured you were too young to have to kill someone that was so close to human. He also knew that she had been a friend of yours. You weren’t there when Astrid had died; you had been busy fighting her hound-like creatures that she had conjured. 

“I don’t know what kind of juice Trevor has now, so you should let me go in first.” You suggest.

“No way. Not in a million years.” Dean says from the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry, but who here has the most experience with witchcraft?”

“And who here has actually ganked a witch?” 

“I have these!” You pull a couple of hex bags out of your purse, showing one to Sam.

“What are these?” He asks.

“A little concoction I whipped up. Similar to those witch killing charms, but these dispel any magic in the area. Great for interrogating witches and not just straight up killing them.” You smile, pleased with yourself. 

“Dean, she does know Trevor better than we do. He’ll let her in. But us, he might not.”

“I taught these guys all about Hunters. He might think your FBI agents, but he might also have realized what you both are and be prepared. But I’m his High Priestess. He won’t be too concerned with letting me in.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Turn up ahead there.” You keep feeding Dean directions. As you get closer, you get more and more agitated, until you see the familiar light blue home pull into view. When Dean parks the Impala, you immediately jump out, ignoring his call for you to wait. You hear him curse behind you as you stamp up the cobblestone steps, throwing open their white picket fence. You summon the magic to your hands and thrust open the front door. Who needs knocking when you’ve pretty much recovered your reserves. 

“Come out Trevor! I know you’re home!” You storm in, two pairs of feet close behind you. You make your way into the living room, where you see that Carla and Trevor are at their feet next to the couch, surprise in their eyes, their hair and clothes disheveled. How dare he be happy when he took everything from you? You slam him to the wall with your telekinetic magic, Carla screaming out in fear. 

“Why? Why’d you do it?” You yell at him. 

“What are you talking about?” Carla is crying, frozen to the spot, screaming for you to drop Trevor. Her hands go up, shaking nervously at you, but you stare at her with rage. She squeaks and drops them, fear in her eyes. 

The Winchesters burst into the room. You hear shouting, but it sounds so distant, your tunnel vision focused completely on Trevor, holding him where he is. Sam shakes your shoulder, trying to get you to release Trevor. His shaking breaks your concentration and you let Trevor go, just as Dean grabs hold of the witch and slams him into the wall.

“Alright asshat, you’re going to tell us what you did to those men and you’re going to tell us now.” He pulls his gun out. Trevor flinches at the sight. “Your high priestess tell you about these? Witch-killing bullets. You can’t block these.”

“I’ll tell you whatever you want, just don’t kill me.”

“Why did you kill Alex?” You scream, Sam holding you back. Trevor looks at you, confused and scared.

“I didn’t kill Alex! I didn’t kill anybody.” Dean places the barrel of the gun against the wall. Trevor is crying “Oh god” over and over again, the metal in his peripherals. 

“Get it together man, someone has been killing the boyfriends to each of your coven. If it ain’t you, then who is it?”

“All I know is that a hex bag was found with Clint’s body since he was hit outside my store. That’s all.” There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in the information. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I am your leader.” You scream at him. Hex bags are like a fingerprint. Each one is unique and with the right spell, you can trace the owner of it. Sure, the ritual takes a while, but within 10 hours, you would’ve known who the rogue witch was. You could have saved Louis at the very least. 

“She told me not to. She said it was a mistake and that she was only experimenting.” 

“Who?” Dean yells, but before Trevor can say anything, he starts spitting up blood. Carla starts screaming louder now.

“What did you do to him? Stop! You’re killing him.” She’s screeching. 

“Silencio.” You point to her. She keeps moving her mouth but nothing comes out. You throw your dispel hex bag, but Trevor starts convulsing. “Find the hex bag. Quick!” Why didn’t your dispel magic work? What kind of juice was being used that your magic wasn’t strong enough? You, Sam, and Dean are tearing through the house. You and Sam are going through the living room. Dean runs to the bedroom. You are throwing cushions aside, looking through the couch, under the furniture, you hear Sam tearing through the book shelves and all the while, Carla is wailing silently.

“Found it!” Sam calls out. He pulls out a hex bag.

“Ignis.” You cast, a small flame coming from your fingertips and setting the bag on fire. After it burns up, Trevor finally stops convulsing, his body relaxing. You look at Carla and release the silencing spell on her. You’re breathing heavy. You’ve used a lot of magic in a short period of time, and it’s much easier to cast ritual spells than conjuration magic. You’re relieved that Trevor is okay, especially now that you are pretty sure he didn’t do it, but pissed because by destroying the hex bag, you won’t be able to cast a locate owner spell anymore. 

Dean comes into the room, just as the hex bag finishes burning in your hand. As the fire stops, you drop to one knee, physically exhausted from all the casting. Dean comes to your side, his hand on your arm, trying to help you up. You smile at him and thank him.

“You good?” He’s holding you up, keeping you from falling back to the floor. Hours ago, this man had a gun pulled on you, and now this. Dean was so hot and cold and while you are going to want to figure him out later, right now, you’re just happy for the comfort.

“Yeah. Drawback to good magic, it can be more exhausting the more you cast. Especially for those who are still new at it, like me. How’s Trevor?” You ask Sam, who is next to Carla and looking at your coven mate. You feel a sense of guilt for accusing him and causing his pain.

“He’s breathing. But we need to get him to a doctor and fast.”

“There’s an urgent clinic about 20 minutes from here.” You explain. You gently shrug Dean off you. You notice his grip doesn’t loosen immediately, that there’s a hesitation there before he lets you go. “I’ll be fine. Help Sam carry Trevor. Carla, we can take you both to the hospital.” Carla stares at you, her eyes numb. There is distrust there and you shiver, the guilt growing stronger.

“Why?” She whispers. As Sam tries to grab Trevor, she throws her hands protectively over him and starts muttering in Latin. Dean’s hand goes to his belt, where he stored his gun. You throw your arm out to him to stop, not conjuring any magic this time.

“Carla, I know you’re upset, but trust us. We’ll explain everything on the way, but right now, Trevor needs our help. Everything I have ever done was to protect this coven. Trust me.” She stares at you for a second longer, considering and weighing your words. She nods her head and allows the boys to grab Trevor. You help her to her feet as she is still in a state of shock. On the drive to the hospital, you explain everything. You tell her that the Winchesters are Hunters, not FBI agents. You explain that someone in the coven has been killing people by casting a spell that makes their victims feel drunk, leading to them hitting pedestrians. And then you explain why you thought Trevor had been that witch. 

“I am so sorry Carla. I was just so upset that I had allowed all of this to happen. I shot first, rather than ask.” Guess Bobby was wrong, you still had what it takes to be a Hunter, you thought to yourself bitterly. 

“I forgive you. You’re the High Priestess. You were just trying to protect us. And Trevor is okay now. You have to find out who did this to him.” Carla wasn’t really looking at you though as she says this. You can’t blame her though. 

“You don’t know anything about the hex bag? Either the one found with Clint or at your home?”

“No! If I’d known about the hex bag, if I’d known that Clint had purposefully been murdered, I would have told you straight away.” You nod at her, wanting badly to believe her. You’re sure she is telling the truth. Acting isn’t easy, and her reactions seemed genuine. They were close to the hospital now. When you arrive, Sam helps Carla get Trevor out. Neither of you can stay with them. You still have a witch on the loose and you’re sure that like yourself, the others are pretty sure Carla’s reaction was no act. 

“It’s either Sherry or Morgan.” You tell Dean.

“My vote is still on the goth chick.”

“Honestly, I can’t believe it is either of them. Both of them are so kind and sweet. Morgan is a pacifist. She’s got some dark shit in her past, sure, but more like things being done to her. She is always so insistent that violence is never the way. And Sherry, well she’s like a mom to everyone. She helps all of us whenever we go through a tough time and she’s the oldest member of the group.”

“Well, we’re running out of time.”

“Most witches can feel when a spell like that takes effect. It’s like a trigger. Which means whoever it is knows that someone is asking questions. So yes, you’re right. We’re running out of time.” Sam comes back to the car. You share with Sam what you and Dean were talking about. After discussing it more, you come to the conclusion that the best thing to do is to split up. 

“Morgan and Sherry live on the other side of town. It makes sense to go back to the house first and split up from there. I can stay home and call Sherry over. She’s rarely busy at this hour and she’ll come if I tell her we’re in trouble. You boys can go to Morgan. I’ll give you her address.”

“Oh no. We aren’t leaving you alone.”

“I’m not the killer Dean. You can trust me.”

“It has nothing to do with trust. I’m not leaving you alone with a possibly murderous witch. Not after seeing you drop back there.” You feel touched. “I trust Sam to be able to handle himself alone more than I trust you. I haven’t seen you in a Hunt in almost a decade.” And just like that, the bubble bursts. You feel a little embarrassed. Sure, he trusts you not to kill him, but he doubts your hunting skills? Screw Dean. You had plenty of experience and used to hunt alongside him without any issues. But you also weren’t sure if you wanted to be alone with Sherry anyhow. Just in case. You agree to let one of them stay with you, and Dean says he’s staying. 

When you all get back to your house, Dean hands Sam the keys and you give him the address. You tell him that Morgan has had to deal with assault in the past and so she gets easily upset if she feels cornered. You warn him to not use the gun unless absolutely necessary, then you give him on the dispel hex bags.

“I’m not sure how well this will work, since it didn’t seem to help Trevor, but maybe it’ll work well on verbal magic?” He thanks you, takes it, and gets in the car. You look at Dean and head inside to grab your home phone. You dial Sherry’s number and she picks up almost immediately.

“Good evening dear. Is everything okay?”

“Sherry? Hey! I’m calling because you left some of the herbs and crystals here.” You whisper to her.

“Oh, is that it? I can pick them up in the morning.”

“I need you to come get them tonight, if you can.” She pauses.

“Why are you whispering dear?”

“Sherry, I need you to get them now. Those guys who came over, they’re Hunters. And one of them saw the crystals. I’m a little worried now. I sent them out, but I’m not sure how long they’ll be gone. I need your help.”

“Oh dear. Ok, give me a second.” There’s shuffling on the other line and you hear her calling out to her husband. Then she comes back on the line. “I’ll be there in 15, ok sweet pea?”

“Thank you Sherry.” You both hang up. You breathe a sigh of relief. She sounded normal on the phone. You go to your bedroom, Dean watching you move, rooted to the spot in your living room. When you come out, you have several ingredients and gold fabric bags in your hand. You start mixing different herbs: red pepper flakes, rosemary, and ginger for life, a small piece of iron for intent, and you pull a strand of your hair for spirit. You draw on the gold bag the rune of protection, for sacrifice. You create two bags, one containing your own hair. You stand up and quickly pull a strand of hair off of Dean.

“Ow. What’re you doing?” He growls at you. 

“Don’t be a baby. If I was planning on killing you, you’d be dead by now.” You smile at him, adding his strand of hair to the second hex bag. 

“Good to know.” He chuckles half-heartedly. “Still doesn’t answer my question though.”

“It’s a protection charm. It should keep you safe from most dark spells. Or at least give you a fighting chance. Protege, protege, protege.” You feel the magic hook into you. The rune was to draw your own energy to the bags. If something were to happen, your own life force will be turned into a shield of sorts. The stronger the dark spell, the more of your energy it consumes, the more danger you could be in. But you aren’t willing to put Dean’s life in danger. You only wish you had had time to prepare one for Sam, but with how far he was from you, even the smallest spell would drain you like a battery, leaving you dead almost instantaneously. You hand it off to Dean. 

“I need you to stay quiet and hidden. That should keep you safe. This will make you undetectable to magic.” You hand him another hex bag. “And this will dispel minor evil charms.” You hand him one more hex bag, each having a different rune on it. 

“How much mojo are you packing?” He cocks an eye at you.

“I told you I still Hunt. I keep a lot of these on hand, just in case. Now go, she should be here soon.” He makes himself scarce and hides down the hall in the kitchen. Now, it’s just a waiting game. You hate just sitting there waiting. You thumb the hex bag in your hand. It’s crazy to think that just a few hours ago, the boys had no idea what you were capable of. Now, even if they don’t fully trust you, they believe in you enough to take your protection charms. It’s incredible. You don’t have long to process this thought, however, as the doorbell rings. Sherry is here.


	8. Ding Dong Witches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to this arc  
> Finally, who is killing these poor men in the town. Is it Morgan? Is it Sherry? Or is it someone else?  
> The finale to the wait is here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a ridiculous amount of research into the magic stuff. SO I hope you guys enjoy some of this authenticity.

You open the door to see Sherry, happy and smiling as usual. She has a bag in her hand, which she shows happily. There is half a cherry pie in it.

“Thought you might need something of a pick me up. Baked it this morning.” Sherry is an amazing baker and works in the bakery section of the grocery market. You thank her for the pie, and bring it with you into the living room. You’re worried that if you bring it to the kitchen, she might follow you. 

“Those boys from last night?”

“They’re out. I sent them on a wild goose chase, talking about rumours of witches in the park.”

“Why are they here? Why do you know Hunters?” You hesitate. Sherry seems genuinely worried. 

“They’re exploring a string of mysterious deaths in town. They’re friends from back in the day and they noticed that I lived in this area and they came to check on me.” You find yourself wondering how no one in the coven realized that the murders were magic in nature. 

“Well, at least they care. But I don’t believe anyone in the coven would be responsible for killing innocents. You taught us to use our magic to help and protect people.” She assures you. You start to relax. Her guard is completely down, she is not tense or defensive. You begin to believe that Sherry may not be the murderer either. But if it wasn’t Sherry, was Sam okay?

“We know it isn’t Trevor, at the very least.” You inform her.

“How so?”

“I went to talk to him, and the second he seemed to give any information, a hex bag activated and he started spitting up blood. He’s in the hospital now.”

“That’s awful!”

“So far, everyone but Morgan has been affected…” You trail off. Everyone in the coven has lost someone except Morgan. Loathe as you are to admit it, Morgan is appearing more and more like the rogue witch, but you were so sure that it couldn’t have been her. 

“It could be someone not in the coven?”

“I’m the only one who sells magical ingredients in the town and everyone gets their supplies from me.”

“I just can’t believe it.” She suddenly seems distant, upset, and saddened. Sherry had taken Morgan under her wing, getting her her job at the grocery market and helping her find a new apartment to stay in. 

“I don’t think Carla or Tara would hurt their own.” You reason. 

“You might be right.” Sherry whispers, hugging herself. But why would Morgan do it? What would she gain from killing people close to them? You and Sherry discuss how this is going to affect the coven, and how they should probably deal with Morgan in the morning. Sherry says she can call Tara and Carla to discuss how they’re going to deal with Morgan. You agree, upset that it came to this. You and Sherry get up from the couch.

“Don’t forget to enjoy the pie, okay?” You nod at her, smiling, and go in for a hug. As you do, Dean bursts out of the hallway, gun cocked and aimed at Sherry.

“Back away from her you bitch.”

“Dean, what the hell?” You angrily yell. 

“Oh Goddess!” Sherry screams in fear.

“Step away from her Y/N!” You stare at Sherry, who is shaking in fear, her hands up in the air, staring at the gun, unblinking.

“Dean, look at her. She’s terrified.”

“You’re a good actress, but Sam just called. Morgan was also cursed when she started to talk. Sam got to the hex bag in time though.” You hear a giggle coming from next to you. You look at Sherry and her entire body language shifts. She has a wicked, twisted smile, her arms are no longer raised defensively, but are slack in the air.

“Well, you caught me. Now what?” You start from the harshness in her voice, which is audibly deeper and sharper. Sherry flicks her hand and Dean’s gun flies out of his hand and knocks into the wall across the room. Dean goes to grab it, but Sherry yells out to him.

“Nuh uh there sweetie. Move and the High Priestess dies.” Without a spell, she twirls her hand and in a puff of black smoke, a dagger appears. Sherry grabs at you, pulling you close, dagger to your throat. 

“Why?” You ask, testing the grip and struggling. Sherry really isn’t that strong, but with the blade right at your throat, you aren’t confident that you can get out of the hold without getting your throat sliced. Her other hand is tight on your wrist, her nails digging in painfully.

“Why? Because this coven was everything, and you were going to leave it. You started having less and less meetings when you got married. You started taking that husband of yours on Hunting trips rather than us. I was your second in command and you completely ignored me! And then you got pregnant and then there were even less. And the others didn’t mind. They just kept going about, ignoring our power. Ignoring what we could do. So I did the only thing I could do. I cut away those distractions. A little hex here, a spell there, and I got rid of both of your distractions.”

“Excuse me?” Shock painted your face. Did she say what you think she said?

“It wasn’t hard to summon a ghost. When you and Alex went to fight it, it made for a good cover up. You thought that throw killed your baby? Please, it was dead long before that.”

“How?!” 

“The tea.” She whispers into your ear. Tears are flowing down your face. Sherry had made a holistic tea that was supposed to help keep your pregnancy healthy. She assured you that it was filled with several vitamins and relaxing herbs. “I thought that would have been enough, but to be honest, you could just go and have another kid, so I took care of the husband too. And the demon I made the deal with requires quite a bit of blood. It became very easy to choose who to kill.”

“Hag.” Dean spits out, and you can see him looking around, thinking of ways to save you. 

“Sticks and stones.” She waves the dagger hand away from you and you try to move away from her. You elbow her in the stomach, and she cries out. You run to Dean, who is going for his shotgun.

“Not so fast!” She flicks both her hands and you and Dean get thrown and held in opposite directions. She may not be strong, but her magic is a different story. You push against the invisible bonds. “I haven’t finished my monologuing. So rude! Where was I? Oh yes. I had to provide two bodies a year, or my soul was forfeit. I like my soul you see and I’m not planning on going to Hell anytime soon. So, I killed Bob next. He was supposed to retire so that I could get a chance at the assistant manager job. Boy, did he take too long. Then, when Carla said she was going to move away with that friend of hers, I killed him too. And Tara was getting too distracted as well, so he definitely had to go.”

“How could you do this? What about your husband? Does he know?”

“Oh him? Puppet. Morgan needed a job or she was at risk of moving back home. I put a little love spell on him. Two birds with one stone, you see.” She smiles viciously. 

“Fuck you!” You scream, trying to struggle harder against the telekinetic bonds. It doesn’t work and you start reciting in Latin the dispel magic that is in the hex bag Dean carries. 

“Now now, none of that. Silencio!” Your voice leaves you. Without your hands free, there isn’t much you can do to counter. “I’m going to miss you High Priestess. It will be a shame to kill everyone. But since my hex bags were activated, it seems Trevor and Morgan can’t keep their damn mouths shut. So I’ll destroy this coven, and maybe I’ll make my own. This time, I’ll be the High Priestess. Won’t that be fun? But for now, let’s start with the Hunter. Oh, this is going to be wonderful. Normally, I just watch someone else do al the work. But this time, I’m going to enjoy this.” She points at Dean now and you can hear the Greek coming out slowly. You know that spell. It’s Death magic!

“Stop! Stop!” You feel the silencing spell fade as you scream out.

“Oooo, you beat my magic. No wonder you’re the High Priestess! Good for you. Now be a good girl, and watch and learn.” You suddenly feel a familiar power. It’s one of your hex bags, that you had given to Sam. You specifically place your own hairs in them so that you can always feel a connection. You can’t hear him enter, but you are sure he just came into the house. 

“Please don’t! Kill me. Don’t hurt him.” You begin to plead, to keep her from noticing.

“Y/N, it’s fine. Go ahead bitch. Better have tried.” He smiles at her, completely unfazed by the situation. She growls harshly in response to his words. If you can keep her looking away from the hallways, Sam will be able to come in and take her out. 

“Please no. You’ve taken everything from me, but not this. Not Dean.” You start crying, sounding as desperate as you can. 

“Stop being pathetic dear. Have some self-respect and stop begging.” You see Sam peak out from the hallways once Sherry turns, her attention fully on you.

“Not exactly begging here.” You smile at her, as Sam comes out of hiding. “Now!” Sam jumps out, shotgun at the ready. Sherry turns around and jumps out of the way, just in time, and the shot goes wild, putting holes into the wall next to you. But it does the trick, and Sherry’s spell drops after she loses her concentration. You feel the magic release and as you drop to your feet, you cast a paralysis spell, stopping Sherry from casting another spell at Sam, as he no longer has the shotgun in his hand. Sherry waves it away and casts her own spells, a blast of fire shooting out towards you. The hex bag you have on you releases its magic and the fire dissipates harmlessly. You feel the energy for the hex bag leave you but ignore the exhaustion. You cast a sleeping charm on her and while she seems more sluggish, she shakes it off. Your fight with Sherry happens in the span of seconds, but you’re able to distract her long enough for Dean and Sam to grab at their weapons.

“Hey bitch, eat lead.” Dean shoots her with his witch-killing bullets and she drops to the floor, a large hole in her chest. “Ding, dong. The witch is dead.” He laughs.

“Dude, really?” Sam says, cocking his eye at him. You laugh slightly as you fall to your knees, emotionally and physically drained. You have cast a lot of spells today and it has taken its toll. The boys are breathing heavily and just staring at you, both impressed and a little worried. 

“Don’t worry boys. I’m not gonna go crazy. I’m just tired.” You breathe heavily. “Thank you, both of you. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to take her on my own.” They nod at you. Dean comes and helps you up, and you lean against him. 

“I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I almost got you killed today Dean, just because I was so blind and insisted on proving how good magic could be.”

“This ain’t your fault.”

“I should have seen the pattern. I should have known that one of my witches had gone bad.”

“Hey, I’m not telling you again. This isn’t your fault. She chose to make a pact with a demon. She chose to murder those people. All you did was try and see the good in people.” He insists, his voice commanding, but warm. You wrap one arm around him, giving him a light squeeze.

“Thank you.” 

“Uhh, yeah.” He seems a little uncomfortable with the affection, but doesn’t push you off. “So, how about some of the pie?”

“I really wouldn’t.” You take a look at it and sniff it. It didn’t smell off. You stick your finger in it and take a lick. It was very sweet. “Revelare.” You wave your hand over it and an instinct hits you from the spell. 

“So?” Dean asks impatiently.

“Poisoned. You’d probably die within an hour of eating this.” You say, disgusted even more at Sherry. She came into your house knowing that you suspected her. This was going to be her plan if she had been able to leave that night. You go to throw it away when you realize, you might need this as proof for the police. You make a tsk, place it in the fridge instead, and return to the room, exhausted. You sit on the couch. 

“Now what? Normally, we just pack up and leave. But you live here.” Sam asks. 

“I already have a plan. Sam, go to my room, under my bed is a chest. It’s unlocked. Bring me some ash, a parchment paper, ink, a quill, a feather, and a chicken talon.” He nods at you and goes to retrieve the ingredients. You’re just too tired to move again and you thank him when he hands it all to you. 

“What are you going to do with that.”

“It’s a little ritual spell I created, based off a video game if you’ll believe it. I can send a short message to the rest of the coven this way.” As Sam lays the ingredients on the coffee table, you move from your seat and scribble the following onto the paper: **Sherry snapped and went rogue. Story: she was drugging people and killing them. She tried to kill us.** Once you are done, you spread the ash over the parchment, place the feather and talon in the middle, crumple the paper, and cast a small flame on the parchment, burning it up. You say the spell, _mittere nuntium_ , to send the message out to the coven.The boys just watch this in silence.

“That’s damn near convenient.”

“Magic can be very convenient. Now, everyone has the same story. We call the cops, tell them the story, we have the entire coven telling them the same story, and now her husband, who should have snapped out of his love spell, will be able to corroborate it as well. This is a small town, they won’t go too deep into an investigation. Quick and clean is how this town works.” Sam and Dean agree to your plan. 

With that, suddenly, the last bit of energy leaves you and you falter once more. You feel dizzy and grip your head as you collapse to the floor.

“Y/N?!” You hear a deep voice yell. You try and wave him away, but, how strange, your arm isn’t responding to you. You feel hands tuck under your legs and your back, and you’re lifted into the air. Your head rests on Dean’s chest and you feel at peace in his arms. 

“Hey, it’s going to be ok. We can get you help.”

“S’fine. Sleep s’all I need.” You slur out. Dean carries you to your room and places you on your bed. His hand strokes your hair. 

“You did good today. Rest. We’ve got the rest of it.” And as if Dean had cast his own spell on you, you close your eyes and sleep.

You had slept for over a day, and had not been awake for when Dean and Sam, under the guise of FBI agents, informed the police of what happened. The Winchesters tell the local police that they were investigating the string of drunk driving related deaths. When they attempted to confront Sherry, a fight broke out and they shot her in the altercation. The police did not question why a shotgun had been used. You are sort of surprised by this. They also provided the pie as evidence that she had attempted to poison everyone. 

 

Over the next two days, the coven was able to prove that Sherry had committed the crimes. Morgan revealed that she knew that Sherry had been experimenting with hex bags, but had never thought about what she was doing with them, trusting her completely. Trevor had seen the hex bag with Clint’s body, and Sherry had told him to keep quiet because it was just something she had given him and it hadn’t been working yet. Like Morgan, Trevor had been suspicious, but trusted Sherry, having been one of the oldest members of the coven.

With everyone having the same story, they were all able to coordinate and gather evidence for the police. Harry, Sherry’s husband, snapped out of the spell the next day, since Sherry was no longer alive to cast the spell and brew the love potion that kept him under. He was able to show the cops her stash of herbs, many of which were poisonous, thus proving how she made the “drug” that caused the drunk driving and kept him complacent. Morgan, having been through a similar, non magical trauma, worked with Harry. He was going to take some time to recover, having some PTSD from his captivity. They were also able to find her grimoire where she talks about who she kills and why. Each of the coven members were also able to discuss how strange she had been acting lately. Between all of the evidence, as you predicted, you don’t get arrested for Sherry’s death.

You hold a coven meeting after the investigation is closed. Sam and Dean are there, as well as Morgan and Trevor who are out of the hospital and recovering, and Tara and Carla. Everyone is sitting around the living room, quiet and visibly uncomfortable. They were one member short and there were two known Hunters in the room, on the wall of the living room.. There was no food this time, no ingredients to continue the protection charm from their previous meeting. After a while, you finally speak up.

“I called you all here to discuss Sherry.” The room becomes quieter as the witches in the room all stare at you. The boys shift their bodies. “I want you all to understand that bad witches do exist, and that just because Sherry went bad does not mean that all witches do. Just like people, it is our choices that determine what we do. We can continue to do good in this world. But you have to stay away from dark magic, from making deals with demons, no matter the cost. Because when you do that, you lose yourself and any semblance of what you are.” Everyone listens attentively to your words, powerful and strengthening as you keep speaking. 

“I am telling you this again because it will be the last time I am able to warn you. I’m stepping down from the coven and I’m leaving town.” Everyone, except Tara, is shocked, including the Winchesters. You hadn’t told them what you were planning on doing yet. “It is tradition that when a High Priestess steps down, she names a successor. I can think of no one better to take my place than Tara. Tara, you are a Natural, and with more study, I know you can lead this coven well and continue to keep them on the right track.” Tara smiles, bowing her head lightly.

“I will make you proud. There is an energy about you High Priestess. Your spirit is more centered than before. May it continue to heal.” She says, with an airiness. You thank Tara, a little thrown off by her words, and turn to Morgan.

“Morgan, I know you work at the grocer’s right now, but I also know you hate it. I need someone to watch my store. Think you can handle it? Along with the house?” It might not be your house, but you doubt your in-laws are coming back to it any time soon. Morgan smiles, big and white teeth, saying yes enthusiastically. With that settled, you say goodbye to everyone. You give Tara a hug and say goodbye to each in turn, giving Morgan one of your spare house keys. When the door closes, you turn around to meet the boys.

“Now what?” Sam asks.

“I think I’ve been ignoring my legacy for too long. I’d like to join you guys, if you’ll have me?”

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re out. Actually out.”

“Sam, if this past week has proven anything, you’re never really out of Hunting. The life finds a way to catch up with you. Besides, I have nothing keeping me here anymore.”

“I don’t know Y/N. A witch Hunter?” Dean says, eyebrow cocked, a little teasing.

“They exist Winchester. Unless you’re uncomfortable. Because if that’s the case, that’s fine. We can go our separate ways.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m...If Bobby accepted it, we can too.” Dean says, not looking you in the eye, a small blush creeping into his cheeks. You smile.

“Let me pack some things.”

“Think your Saturn can keep up with Baby?”

“Don’t underestimate her!” You call back to him. By the time you are done packing, you have a bag full of clothes and toiletries, and another bag filled with herbs, your spell book, and a few crystals and pre-made hex bags. 

“Ready when you are boys. Where to?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Hope you are all enjoying your holidays. Hope you all are having something to do with turkey and are staying sane for any who are with family. Thank you all again for the love and support!
> 
> I have more chapters planned, but life is getting a little hectic. I have a plan as to where I want this story to go, so don't think it's completely over! I'll be back with new stuff closer to the next holiday break. We have Channukah coming up and I am really excited to be running it at my home this year so I'll be doing a lot of cooking over the next couple of weeks and prepping my house. And my husband is Catholic, so we have his family coming up for an early Christmas. So December gets a little crazy for us, but I will be back with some main story chapters AND some more Dean and insert character!


	9. Fairy Magic is Cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lines up with episode 11 of season 8.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry to have taken so long guys! But I'm giving you an extra long chapter to make up for it. I'm halfway through chapter 10 and I have the notes written out for chapters 11 and 12. Since winter break is around the corner, I'll have two whole weeks off from work so I can concentrate on writing. 
> 
> I hope you guys continue to enjoy the slow burn, trust me, the wait is almost over! Love you all again.

You drive in your Saturn, your town long behind you, a KISS song playing in your ears. You and the Winchesters had left hours ago, having packed your things in your car. You still couldn’t believe that you were doing this. It had been so long since you went out on the road and something felt right. You hadn’t realized how cooped up you were feeling in that small town until you were out again.

Your phone rings. You turn the music down and pick up, Dean’s voice on the other line. He tells you of a case that they just got called on, by some guy named Garth. Dean tells you to follow the Impala to Farmington Hills, Michigan. Not too far. He tells you that they’ll stop and buy a suit for you on the way. 

When you pass over the state lines of Michigan, you all stop at a Walmart. Good ole reliable Walmart. Sam wanders off, talking about looking at the laptops, while you and Dean walk over to the women’s section. He looks visibly uncomfortable when you both walk through the lingerie section, which makes you giggle. You pick out two suits: one black and one blue. You also grab a couple of nice blouses. As you are grabbing the two, Dean walks over with a pencil skirt and shiny red heels.

“What the hell do you expect me to do in that?”

“What? It’d look good.”

“And if I have to run?” You eye the heels, which have got to be four or five inches tall. You’d break your neck trying to run in that shit! 

“What? You’re a woman. This makes sense.”

“No. This makes sense.” You show him the two suits and the sensible pair of one inch, plain black heels. His face screws up. “Listen ya dummy, I appreciate your fashion sense, but I’m going for comfort. I can’t chase after a wendigo or something in what you picked. But thanks.” You give him a light punch in the arm and go to pay for the items. 

You change into the clothes in the Walmart bathroom and continue on to the apartment Garth had pointed the boys to and park outside it. You felt good in the suit. It had been a while since you had been on a job. You didn’t have a badge like the boys just yet. Sam said he’d make one for you later, so you all agreed you’d be a trainee for now. Sam flashes his badge at the officer at the door of the apartment and the three of you approach a sheriff.

“Sheriff. Special Agent Taggart. This is my partner, Special Agent Rosewood and our trainee-”

“Junior Agent Foley.” You interrupt, sticking your hand out to shake his. You hadn’t come up with an alias beforehand and you didn’t trust Sam to be merciful with a good name, but you recognized the reference and continued with it. You see the corner of his mouth pull into a smirk and then relax quickly. 

“FBI? You guys are quick. Haven’t even got the body out yet.” The Sheriff responds. Sam and Dean speak to the sheriff back and forth a bit, and Dean declines the Sheriff’s offer to see the body. 

“Foley, with me.” He says to you. Sam and the Sheriff walk away to look at the vic and you follow Dean into the kitchen. He has the EMF reader out, looking for any signs. As he does so, you look around as well. There is game and pop culture memorabilia all around the place. There’s a spock cooking glove in the kitchen, which you grab enthusiastically.

“Got something?” Dean asks. You drop it quickly, your face a little red.

“Uh. No. I just thought it was cool.”

“Really? Come on, we’re on a job here.”

“I know that!” You snap, a little embarrassed. He keeps going around with the EMF. You take a different approach and sit at the kitchen table, eyes closed and sensing. Sometimes, you can feel when a place is touched by magic. There was something strange about the apartment, some energy that is foreign. 

“Ain’t no time for a nap.” Dean’s voice snaps you out of your trance like state.

“Back off. I was working.” You snap, his eyebrows raising. There’s an officer who walks by, eyes squinting at you. You add “sir” hastily and the officer walks away. You look at Dean. “Witch remember. I was trying to sense any magic.”

“And?” You pull him closer, which causes him to stiffen. You ignore it and whisper to him:

“It’s weird. There’s definitely a magical energy here, but something is off and I can’t really pinpoint it.” 

“EMF has nothing either.” You nod at him and walk out of the kitchen as Sam is asking about a lead. You pull out your own pad and pen and start writing down the information that the Sheriff is giving Sam: Lance Jacobsen. When Sam is done asking the sheriff questions, you all leave the apartment and head back to your cars.

“Follow us. We’re going to head to the police station and the cops are going to pick up this Jacobsen dork.”

“No problem.”

When you all enter the police department, you volunteer to stay outside the interrogation room, watching from the otherside of the two way mirror. You watch as Sam and Dean sit down in front of this skinny white man. He looks young and scared. You watch as Lance bursts into tears after Sam introduces them as FBI agents. Something tells you that Lance is not the killer. You listen as he explains the text messages and starts talking about LARPing. You can’t help but feel a little excited at the idea of a case that involves LARPing. When you hear Lance bring up something about a website, you pull out your laptop and start pulling it up, looking at the site. It was pretty plain looking. You see a video of them playing and go to play it when you see Sam and Dean stand up and leave the room. 

“So? Do you believe “Dungeons and Dragons?”

“He didn’t put a whammy on us. Those weren’t crocodile tears, man. That’s not our guy.” Dean replies.

“He said LARP Sam. DND and LARPing are really different things.” You interject quickly, the boys smiling at you. “Shut up.” When they ask about the website, you show them the laptop with the video already loaded up. It actually looks pretty awesome, which you voice. But all you get in response is, “Wait, is that…?” from Dean as a pretty, red headed girl shows up on the video. You wonder who she is, other than the Queen of Moondoor, according to the video narrator. 

“Do you know her?”

“Yeah, from a previous case.” Is all Sam replies. 

“What is she doing here?”

“No clue. Hope she didn’t get herself roped into something else.” Dean says, and as he does so, a couple of officers are running to the interrogation room. The three of you watch as, minutes later, Lance’s corpse is pulled out of the room. The sheriff walks over, telling you that there is something you would all be interested in watching. 

You watch the video as the once living Lance stands up and begins scratching his arm. He then starts to cough up blood. You flinch, looking away, suddenly remembering how Trevor looked when you had questioned him about your husband’s death days ago. That guilt was still fresh. The sheriff says something, which you don’t really hear, and walks away, leaving the three of you alone with the video.

“You good?” Dean asks. You nod your head in reply.

“Yeah, just, looked a lot like Trevor is all.” He gives you one more look before turning away, back to the video.

“Doesn’t make sense though. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur. I got nada. You?”

“Watch the video again.” Sam replays the video and zooms in on Lance’s arm. There is a symbol of a tree, similar to what Ed had, according to Sam. They discuss the possibility of matching tattoos, but something familiar about this itches in the back of your mind. 

“I’m telling you, this is magic. Somehow.”

“No hex bags.” Dean replies.

“There’s something familiar about that symbol. I just can’t put my finger on it, but there’s definitely magic going on here.”

“Well, then we need to go to Moondoor.” Dean says.

“Lucky for us, we know the queen.”

“We’re going LARPing?” You ask, looking up at the taller brother. 

“We’re going to go figure out who has been murdering others.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, I’ve got the address. I’ll meet you two there okay. Don’t talk to anyone without me.”

You walk off, leaving the two behind as they stare at you, curious and confused. You would be damned if you finally got a chance to see LARPing in action and show up in FBI dress. If they wanted any information out of these guys, you would play the part. You were pretty sure you saw a costume shop nearby. A cloak and a pair of elf ears were all you needed, matched up with one of your long skirts and white tops that were packed in the trunk of your car. 

You buy a brown cloak, a pair of silicon elf ears, and a small pouch that you can wear on your side, maybe put a few hex bags and herbs in it. You chat up the older gentleman at the cash register as you are checking out. He introduces himself as one Liam Brady and asks about your outfit. You tell him you’re on a job and that these costumes would help. You then ask him about Moondor.

“Ah yes, Moondoor. I get quite a few younger folks coming in here buying clothes for that game. I was thinking about closing up when they started up and put me back in business. It used to just be Halloween that I made any money.”

“Have you ever noticed anything strange about the LARPers?”

“Strange? Have you seen them?” He chuckles lightly and then looks at the items you purchased. “Um, sorry.” Realizing he may just have insulted you. 

“Right. It’s fine.” 

“But no, nothing strange really. I heard that a few of those kids playing have gotten pretty hurt. Overheard a couple of regulars talking about it the other day.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” You finish paying for the costume pieces and then head to the woods the LARPers use, according to their website. You pull out your cellphone and text Dean that you are on the way as you jump into your car. There’s an immediate reply, saying that they were already heading in. Ending with a “you snooze, you lose.” You curse at the phone and put the car in drive as soon as you see it, switching the radio on. One the Road Again by Metallica blasts as you drive to the medieval camp, trying to make up for lost time. They could have waited for you. 

You exit the car and call Dean to figure out where to meet up, but he isn’t answering his phone. _Damnit Dean._ You head towards the entrance of Moondoor, following the sounds of fighting and chatter. The scene laid out in front of you is fantastic, with people in various costumes from beginner made to experienced. You’re pretty sure you see someone in some heavy chainmail! You stop the chainmailed knight. 

“Um, pause?” You say, hoping you have the lingo correct.

“What’s up?” He said casually. 

“Oh good. I had two friends dressed real nice, in suits. Probably said they’re FBI. Do you know where they are?”

“Oh those two? Yeah, we saw them. They went towards the Queen’s tent. Lucky bastards. Not sure how those losers got an audience with the Queen. Can you tell them to stop wrecking with the theme?”

“Will do! Sorry, you know how some people are.” He points to a large maroon tent off in the distance, quickly. Dean in audience with a queen, not good at all. Dean had garnered quite the reputation among the Hunters. Both brothers were well known for their looks, but Dean had become known to act upon them. You had never been very comfortable with hearing about it, even when you were with Alex. A young woman, dressed as a knight, tries to stop you as you approach. You skirt past her quickly and dodge out of the way of her reach, and then throw a yellow ball at her from behind, “freeze.” She pretends to freeze.

“Sorry, nothing personal.” Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. You pick up the yellow cloth ball and continue on to the tent. As you approach, you can hear Dean’s voice. 

“But, trust me, this life – you can't afford attachments. You just got to... let go.” His voice is soft, gravelly. His words sting a bit, but you know that from experience that he's right. That didn’t make it any better. You can't dwell on his words though, even though you want to, badly. 

“Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?” You hear a woman’s voice reply. You have to restrain yourself from barging in on them. You can picture her, red hair falling over her shoulder. She’s probably leaning over him or something. You don’t keep up that imagery for long though as they both suddenly leave the tent. Dean is no longer in the FBI suit, but embraced the Moondoor feel. He’s got brown pants on and a red shirt, along with a foam covered sword on his side. He looks real good like that. And next to him was the beautiful redhead, the Queen of Moondoor. You had to say, you could definitely understand why that knight was upset. 

“Found you.” You say as Dean and the queen walk past you. She jumps slightly, and he turns around to face you.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Dean asks, staring at you. You’re full outfit is together. You have on a pair of dark, black boots, a long brown skirt with a fanny pack style leather pouch resting on your hips. You have a loose fitting white blouse tucked into the skirt, and you have a deep forest floor brown cloak, the hood tucked over your head, hiding the pair of ears you had put on. 

“When in Moondoor… What? Does it look that bad?” You suddenly get self-conscious. “I mean, you’re in an outfit too!”

“No, no. I wouldn’t say that. You… you look good.” Dean says quickly, almost stuttering, looking away from you. He sees a wooden sword on the side of the tent and grabs it quickly. You smile to yourself and the redhead looks at you.

“I think you look very good.” 

“Oh, um, thank you…?”

“Charlie.”

“Y/n. So, queen?”

“Of all Moondoor.” She says, as you both continue walking on. You keep to the side as Dean and Charlie continue whatever conversation they were having inside the tent. Rather than participating, however, you’re doing what you do best, sensing for magic. You’re looking all around, scanning the area and watching the other LARPers go about their business. Walking behind the queen and her squire, you probably look like another guard, which suits you. 

I’m noticing a lot of these maidans checking you out.” Hearing Dean's voice, your attention pops up. 

“What? I can't shut this down!” And with that, it clicks. Charlie is gay! A sigh of relief escapes your lips, which you hope that no one notices. Each time Charlie flirts with another girl, you can’t help but smile and feel silly for being worried about Dean. As Dean and Charlie are questioning different LARPers, you fall back to old tricks and try to sense if the camp had been touched by any forms of magic. Whenever they would stop to speak with someone, you had an opportunity to sense if the area had been touched by magic. Nothing… At the apartment and at the police station, where the two victims died, you could feel a sort of energy. Didn’t feel like any magic you had ever encountered, but it did feel otherworldly. Around Moondoor, though, there wasn’t a single bit of magic. 

“The forest behind the playground. Come on.”

“Huh?”

“Come on sleepy.”

“Not sleeping, trying to sense for magic.” You whisper to him. 

“And?”

“Nothing.” You say, disappointed and a little ashamed. He smiles at you, and you can almost feel the condescension oozing out of him. “But that’s evidence in itself! That means that whoever is casting the magic isn’t doing it in camp. So they’re either doing it at home or out in the woods.” 

“And the forest is where we are headed!” Charlie says, smiling at you. You three make your way along a path towards the Black Hills. As you are all walking, a gangly man dressed as a knight, who looked more like a boy, stops you. 

“My queen. There you are. I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Has this...oaf attempted to harm you with his blasphemous metalworks?” He ignores you, as you keep your head down and your hood over your ears. 

“Boltar, they’re with me. This is my new...handmaidan.” She points at Dean, and then looks at you, with an almost wicked smile. “And my new concubine.” You turn red, and turn to Dean, wondering his reaction. His gaze hardens, his jaw twitching as it clenches. You take a mental note. Dean didn’t mind Charlie before, and this was the first time he seemed to truly react to her flirting. You look to Boltar, his gaze looks dark as well. 

“We seek an audience with the Shadow King.”

“Uh, these hills are not safe. I beseech you, my queen, you should return to camp.” Dean steps forward. 

“He’s right… your worshipfulness. Uh, may I have a moment before you take your leaving?” You smile to yourself, as he tries to speak in theme. 

“Handmaidan? Concubine!?”

“He was suspicious. I panicked.”

“Concubine?” He repeats, his jaw clenching again. 

“Dean, it’s fine.”

“Fine? It’s not...” He looks like he’s going to argue with you, but he falters and his voice fades. 

“You good there?” Charlie asks, mischief in her eye. 

“Yeah. Yeah. All right, look. Y/n, you have your phone. Take Charlie, find Sam. We’ll find the shadow dorks.”

“But I can help.” Charlie whines. 

“No way! You are not getting rid of me!” You protest. Dean pulls you to the side.

“Y/n, you’re Hunting with us, so I need you to listen.”

“You’re side lining me man.”

“I am not side lining you. Someone has to watch Charlie.” You cross your arms, giving him a look. 

“Charlie is a big girl.”

“Don’t give me that look. I need you to watch her. I’m trusting you with this.” Low blow Dean. 

“Ugh, fine.” You both walk back to her. 

“Find Sam. Update him, find out what he got.” You hook your arm around Charlie’s and throw Dean a look. 

“No funny business!” He points at Charlie, his voice a little deeper. You wave your hand dismissively. 

As you both walk further and further away, towards the camp, Charlie finally speaks up. 

“So, you and Dean?” She smiles at you. 

“Come again?” You're a little confused, and mildly flustered at the implication. 

“You and Dean? I’m a little surprised after, well, after what he had told me earlier. It’s too bad about you and him, but you both do look good together.”

“What? Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Your face starts to go red. 

“Oh come on, no one is that upset about someone else being called a concubine. Right?”

“He's just over protective.” One of her eyebrows raises, unbelieving. “No, really. Dean, Sam, and I were practically raised together. He's always seen me as a sister.” You catch yourself off guard when you realize how disappointed you are by your words. But it's true. He had even said you were like a sister to him. Not after Chris. A little voice in your head reminds you. Your face turns a bright red thinking back to that night. But that was just a fluke, you try and convince yourself. 

“If you say so.” You both continue walking for a while before she speaks up again. “Did you say something about sensing magic earlier?”

“Oh, yeah. You heard that?” She nods. You hesitate for a moment, but if the Winchesters trust her, you should too. “I'm a witch.”

“No way? Like legit? Spells and junk?”

“Yeah, spells and junk. And if I stop to meditate for a bit, I can tell if a place has been touched by strong magic.”

“Wicked!” You smile, happy that she approves of your skills. You hear a rustle in the forest, and your hand goes straight to a hex bag in your Fanny pack. Charlie puts her hand out and keeps walking. There's another rustling in the woods, and you can swear that you see a figure in a black cape run by. 

“Charlie…” you both stop in the clearing, back to back. There's a good chance that this is part of the game, but at least two people were dead and you were not taking chances. You both are scanning the tree lines. From the corner of your eyes, a figure in a black cloak jumps out. You’re surprised at Charlie’s speed as she throws a black bean bag at the figure’s face. He yips in pain, and you can see he is wearing fake orc teeth. _Good, just another player._ And he runs off, screaming about being blinded. You visibly relax and turn to look at her and the direction in which the orc ran off. 

“I thought it was going to be real. This LARP thing really blurs the line between real and fake.”

“Yeah.” She turns to face you and her eyes begin to go up, her face twisting in fear as she throws a red bean bag and says, “dark magic?” not at all convinced it will work. You twist around quickly, a sleeping spell on your lips, and come face to face with a large imposing creature, with a deer's skull for a head. 

_“DORMIA-”_ Before the spell can complete, the world goes black.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

When you wake up, you observe your surroundings, a headache pounding behind your eyes and your mouth dry. You wake up on a luxurious bed, which is a pleasant surprise for what you would assume was a magical kidnapping. You gingerly stand up and walk around the circular room. You touch the wall, which feels like fabric. Perhaps you were in a tent? You press against the cloth, but it feels like there’s a solid wall behind. You continue to circle slowly and see light pouring through a veil of different colored fabric. You can hear voices muffled on the other side. 

You smile to yourself. Whoever kidnapped you obviously was an amateur. No lock on the door, no manacle or rope, it’s like they were asking for an escape. Or perhaps this is a trap? Cautiously, you make your way to the opening and try to move the cloth aside. But when you reach out to touch it, you press a flat surface, like glass. It’s cold against your fingers. You work your hands across and realize that at one point, it stops feeling like glass and feels instead like the cloth. You peep through the opening that is not covered by cloth and see a room similar to your own. You try and make out the words being said.

“It's a lovely forest, but it's nothing like my home.” You hear a delicate, feminine voice say. 

“Right. So, how do we get you back there?” That’s Charlie’s voice! 

“Charlie! I’m in here! Charlie!” You bang on the glass. 

“Did you hear that?” You hear Charlie say. _Good!_ You bang louder and scream out for her again. 

“I heard nothing. But, I can't break free from the spell, myself. A hero must take my master's book of magic and destroy it, breaking the spell.”

“Damnit Charlie! I’m over here! I’m screaming at the top of my lungs here!” You change directions and try to look through another area and you can suddenly make out a bed with two figures sitting on it. One was undoubtedly Charlie, with her red hair and medieval clothes. The other has long dark hair and wearing a white dress. You can only see behind them. 

“Gilda, my name is Charlie Bradbury, and I am here to rescue you.” You see the white dressed woman shift her body towards Charlie. 

“Are you serious!? Are you really making a move on this woman Charlie Bradbury! I am in here!” You see Charlie close the gap between them and they’re kissing. 

“Oh! Oh my!” You move away from the opening, feeling a little scandalized. You pause to look around again. The room you are in is a mirrored image of the room that you can see outside.

“I'm in a mirror!” You scream out into the air. “And I'll bet that woman in white was the same skull headed guy from the forest.” You sit cross legged on the floor. Tree tattoo, forest, skull head, some really heavy magic. Those are your clues, and there was something there that was familiar. Something you had read about a while back in your supernatural history class in college. It hits you and you jump up to the mirror, your pocket grimoire out in your hand. 

“ _Et conlidam.”_ Nothing happens. You feel the spell drain you of energy, so you know you cast it properly, but the mirror's glass doesn't shatter. 

“Gilda! Fairy magic is cheating!” There was no way that a regular witch could hold you this well. It was the Tree of Pain, that was the symbol that had been bugging you and the Winchesters, a fairy magic symbol used in rituals. You felt so stupid. You had done a whole report on Ancient Magics from various cultures, one of them being Celtic. When Charlie brought up the origin, you should have remembered. 

“Dean!” You pull out your cellphone to call him, but there is a “No Signal” message across the screen. 

“You have to be kidding me!” You put your phone away and sit cross legged on the floor and breathe.

“Alright Y/N. You are stuck in a mirror. Magic won’t shatter the glass. You can’t call Dean and Sam. Charlie is making out with a fairy. And you don’t know what the hell is going on or why anyone is targeting a bunch of LARPers. There are worse situations to be in. There’s a bed here at least. And I’m sure Dean will eventually notice you’re missing and… Ugh!” You bury your face in your hands. You realize that if Dean finds you, you’re past certain that he’s going to say something smug about your Hunting skills. What a rookie mistake, getting caught. And you desperately did not want to embarrass yourself in front of Dean. And Charlie’s words echo in your head. _“You both do look good together.”_ There’s a tightening in your chest you hadn’t felt since Alex, and you're torn between the guilt over your late husband, the desire to see Dean, and the anxiety of how he’ll react when, if, he gets you out of your glass prison. You had always thought Dean cute. Hell, in high school, you had a major crush on the guy, but he never seemed to reciprocate, at least not seriously. But something felt different this time around. Something between you both was different and you had noticed 

__

__

“Boltar the Furious!” A voice suddenly calls from the entrance to the mirror. You run up to the glass and try to see what is happening. You see Boltar, the scrawny knight that had stopped you, Dean, and Charlie in the forest. His face is twisted now and angry. He’s in full villain monologue stance. At least now you know who summoned a fairy. From your small section, you can see Dean and Sam, empty handed, standing near Charlie and the fairy Gilda. Where were their guns. 

“Dean! I’m in here!” You yell out, hoping that maybe one of them can hear you, as Charlie may have heard you earlier. But he didn’t turn around, and Boltar continued his tirade about wanting to win the Queen’s hand, and how he had done it and _yada yada yada._ It was a pretty boring, selfish reason. 

“This will all work out... after I remove you from the playing field and wipe her memory. Gilda?” He picks up a fake sword, but as Gilda moves her hand, you can see it transform into a real one. The boys begin to move out of instinct. 

“Gilda, the big one.” 

“Sam, move!” You yell out, instinctively, as you watch a large suit of armor come to life. They move out of range of your vision to the other side of the tent. You then watch as Charlie charges towards Boltar with her own fake sword. But he pushes her roughly back onto the bed. Dean yells out and pulls his own wooden sword from his belt. 

“Get him! And then get me!” You scream as Dean swings the sword at Boltar, but Boltar cuts Dean’s sword in half. Boltar strikes at Dean in retaliation, but Dean puts his shield up, blocking the attack. Boltar tries for a second strike, which Dean blocks once more with a shield and then punches Boltar.

“Hey Gerry, I’m the one who saves damsels in distress around here.” You hear Charlie shout from somewhere you can’t see. Boltar, who you know assume is Gerry, pats at his body, looking for something that is no longer there. He screams out, and a burst of yellow light comes from behind the bed. As Boltar tries to hit Dean with the now fake sword, Dean retaliates, elbowing him in the face. Boltar drops to the floor and you let out a celebratory, “yes!”

“Dean!” You try and yell again.

“Y/n!” You hear him yell back, and your heart does flips. He heard you!

“Dean, Dean? I’m in here! Break the glass!” 

“Where is she? Where the hell is she?” He turns to address Gilda. Gilda backs away, and Charlie seems to be protecting her.

“Chill Dean.”

“I will chill when someone tells me where the hell y/n is! She’s not answering her phone and I haven’t seen her!”

“She was with me in the woods before Gilda captured me.”

“She’s over there.” You watch as Gilda points towards you. You slam your fists on the glass and scream out once more. In seconds, the sheet that was covering the mirror is pulled out and you see Dean, visibly worried and angry and a little dirty.

“Y/n?” His hands are on the glass, as if he doesn’t believe it’s you. 

“Oh thank Goddess! I’ve been yelling for someone for almost an hour.” You place your hand over his and smile. “I can’t shatter the glass from in here.”

“Alright, move back.” You do as instructed. He takes his elbow and slams it into the glass, which shatters. Suddenly, it feels like a vacuum as you are sucked through the entrance, the whole room vanishing behind you. You are thrown out, falling into Dean’s arms. He catches you, one hand on your head, the other tightly around your back. It felt good to be in his arms. You wonder why you were worried about him finding you earlier. This was nice. This was _really_ nice. 

“Damnit, I thought you’d gotten hurt.”

“I’m fine.” You say into his chest. He pulls you back and looks you up and down, checking for injuries. 

“Good.” He squeezes your shoulders and let’s go. “Then what the hell were you thinking?”

“What?” You can almost here the record scratch in your head as the moment is ruined. 

“You’re a Hunter and you’re a witch. How the hell did you get caught like some rookie? You put yourself and Charlie in danger. Why weren’t you being careful!?”

“Um, excuse me. I _was_ being careful. But as you can see, we’re not dealing with a normal witch. If it had been Boltar the Furious over there, no problem. But have you ever fought a fairy? Look at her, that ain’t Tinker Bell!” You yell back.

“That’s no excuse! You were supposed to be watching Charlie. Instead, you were trapped in a mirror for crying out loud! And doing what? Just sitting there?”

“I tried to get out!” Your eyes are steel, as are his. _What the hell was I thinking!? Dean’s an asshole!_

“Obviously you didn’t try hard enough!”

“Guys! This isn’t the time or the place” Sam’s words cut across. You look as Sam, Charlie, and Gilda are all staring at you. Charlie is visibly trying to hold back a smile and you shoot her a scowl. Both you and Dean become more subdued, but you can tell that he is still fuming next to you. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks Gilda. 

“I’m free of the spell. You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.” She moves as if to leave, when Charlie calls her to wait. She kisses Gilda who then disappears in a twinkle and shimmer of lights. You watch as Boltar’s body disappears in a puff of smoke.

“Call me...maybe?” Charlie calls out into the tent. And with that, you are all left, awkwardly, in the tent. Sam and Charlie start to head back to the main tent, Dean follows next, and you take up the rear, your head bowed low, embarrassed by the whole thing. It’s dark out and you watch as everyone uses their cellphones to navigate. You walk over and grab a few twig from the floor and pull a couple strands of hair and start wrapping them around the twigs.

“ _Liathróidí solais_.” You whisper in Gaelic. Each twig suddenly bursts into a ball of light. The others stop ahead.

“Woah!” You hear Charlie say. You give a ball of light to the others, which is far brighter than what the cellphones provided. 

“You are too cool. You’ve gotta teach me that.” You smile sheepishly, shrugging at her. 

“Sure. One of these days.” You promise, emptily. You don’t really feel like teaching anymore new witches after what happened. Everyone continues to move onward. You notice as you all continue to walk that Dean is slowly getting closer to you. You both are refusing to meet each other’s eyes and when he suddenly coughs, you jump a little. 

“What?” You ask, a little coldly. “Going to scold me some more?”

“Listen, I, uh, shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that. Not in front of the others.”

“I’m not one for yelling in private either.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was worried. When you weren’t with Charlie, I almost tore the camp apart looking for you both.”

“Charlie was fine. More than fine, as I’m sure you saw.”

“And you?” 

“Embarrassed mostly. You’re right. Rookie mistake getting caught. Guess I’m a bit more rusty than I thought.”

“No. You’re fine. Sam and I have gotten caught plenty of times. Comes with part of the territory. I’m sure we would’ve been in the same boat.” He is still avoiding your gaze, his hand going to the back of his neck, the ball of light in the other. “This is pretty cool.”

“Thanks. It’ll probably go out in a while. I’m using my own hair to power the magic, but with only a few strands, it won’t last long. With better ingredients, they’ll be brighter and glow longer.” You say, a little excited. He is standing right next to you now, you can feel his arm bump up against you every so often, each touch of contact causing your heart to race a little faster. When he puts his hand down from his neck, it grazes past your own hand. As the ball of light starts to fade, you look to Dean’s face. His eyes are facing forward, not looking at you, and his cheeks are a slight pink. When the light blinks out, you feel his hand grab yours, and you could swear that his face had turned red, a shade to match your own. His strong grip on yours, you continue to walk forward, following the balls of light that Charlie and Sam held, which were also starting to blink out. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

You’re not wearing the same outfit, as Charlie has lent you a warrior’s outfit, complete with basic leather armor. But, you have your ears showing out to the world this time, your hair tucked behind them, proud to show off your nerdiness. After all, what were ears when Dean Winchester was wearing a long wig, his face painted, and two orc ears hanging around his neck. You also had face paint, but it was just a little red and white, he had gone full face. You had to admit, it was nice. 

“And dying in your beds many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance -” 

“Isn’t that the speech from -” Charlie whispers to Sam. 

“Braveheart? Yeah.” You answer before she finishes.

“It’s the only one he knows.” Sam explains.

You just watch as Dean continues his speech. Now that you’re aware of your feelings, surprised by how quickly they had come back, you couldn’t help but realize, a man in cosplay was such a turn on. You brandish your twin foam daggers, waiting for Dean’s signal. If this was life with the Winchesters, you could definitely get used to this.


	10. Time Magic is Confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader insert to Season 8's "As Time Goes By."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the fans of the fic and to Squibbles94 for continuously editing my work. Go check out her stuff. She is fantastic.  
> Sorry for being a day late. I wasn't sure if I was going to post this week or wait another week, but I decided today I want to get the chapter out to you all.

It had been a couple of days since Michigan. You and the Winchesters were staying at a random motel off the interstate. You were in their room, having picked up a few bagels for breakfast, and was pulling them out from the bag and placing them on the table, while Dean finished putting his shoes on. Sam was in the bathroom, finishing changing.

“I’m just saying, you were the one who grabbed my hand.”

“And I’m telling you that the light was going out and I didn’t want you to trip.” 

“Dean -” The closet suddenly rumbled to the side. You both stop and look, Sam coming out of the bathroom. The door flies open and out stumbles a young man in a blue suit. You drop the bagel you’re holding and pull a dagger from your boot, brandishing it. 

“Time is of the essence! Which one of you is John Winchester?”

“Uh, neither.” Sam says, confused by the strange man. 

“That’s impossible.” He starts mumbling to himself.

“Who the hell are you mister?” Dean demands, moving towards him, but the man in the blue suit waves him off. Bad move stranger, Dean doesn’t like to wait. He rushes blue suit, pushing him into the wall, Sam following behind him. You are still on guard, staying back as the boys question him. Blue suit asks about John again and you wonder how a man, who looks to be younger than you all, would think John Winchester is alive. Most Hunters knew that he’d died several years ago.

“Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me?” Impeccable manners at least, other than the whole, dropping in unannounced thing. Dean backs away from him slightly. Blue suit continues to ramble on. He starts to move towards the door, saying that he’s going to be leaving, but Sam blocks his way. Dean moves towards the duffel bag, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from the top. He and Sam attempt to handcuff blue suit, but in one motion, he breaks away, leaving the boys handcuffed to the chair instead. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean yells as he tries to pull on the cuffs to release.

“Really you two?” You shake your head at them.

“This isn’t funny Y/n. Grab the keys!”

“Keys? Yeah, I should definitely waste time trying to search for a tiny key in your bag.”

“You’re wasting time yapping! Let’s go.” Dean snaps back. You roll your eyes at him. No way blue suit is going to get far in a span of seconds. You wave your hand over their wrists, and the cuffs unsnap, dropping away. 

“Come on, before he gets away slowpokes.” You jeer at the two playfully. You follow after the boys as they storm out. You can hear glass shattering and Dean’s face twists in fury as he pulls his gun out. You run to the Impala, to see blue suit trying to hot wire Dean’s baby. Dean points his gun at blue suit.

“Nice taste in wheels.” Sam goes around to the other side, opening the door to keep him from running. With the gun pulled out, you open the driver door.

“Come on handsome. Easy way or hard way.” He sighs, you hear Dean scoff behind you, and steps out, allowing you to wrap your arm around his. “Nice and easy and we’ll just head back to the room.” You smile at him. He forces a smile back. Dean hides his gun again, but you can tell it’s still pointed out the strange man. Once the four of you are back inside, the boys push blue suit forward.

“Y/n, the door.” You nod at Dean, blocking the way as they force the man to sit in the chair. They then pull out a flask of holy water and splash some on the man. You find that to be a waste of supplies. It was obvious that he wasn’t a demon. No demon would have left that easily without collateral damage. 

“He’s clean.” Sam says.

“I could have told you that.” Blue suit replies. Dean goes full alpha, trying to intimidate the man. You’re pretty surprised by how well composed blue suit is, but he really should stop trying to push Dean’s buttons. You’re about to suggest that he cooperate when Dean loses it. He grabs him by the suit jacket and points the gun right at his face. 

“Let me tell you what I understand. Some asshat pops out of my closet, asking about my dad, smashes up my ride. So why am I not getting violent, again?”

“John Winchester is your father?” There is a rumbling around the room, seeming to come from the same closet that the blue suited man came from. He jumps out of the chair, his face pulled back in fear. 

“What the hell is that?” You yell.

“Run!” Is all that the man in blue yells back. The closet door bursts open, a flash of bright yellow light, blinding. A beautiful redheaded woman, dressed in a light blue dress, stained with red, walks out. 

“Henry.” She laughs. “Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then, spells never were your best subject, were they? Why don’t you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.” _Kill? Oh hell naw lady!_

“You know I can’t do that.” The man in blue, who you now know as Henry, replies.

“You’re not a fighter, Henry.” She taunts him. Dean raises his gun as you prepare a flame spell, but the woman lifts her arms and sends you, Dean, and Sam flying into the walls, landing roughly on the floor. She’s gotta be a witch! Henry tries to move away, but the woman in the stained dress, which you are now convinced is blood, holds up a hand to stop him.

“Josie, I know you’re still in there. You must fight this.” 

“I’m afraid Josie’s indisposed, pet. It looks like it’s just you and me.”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-” You begin to chant, getting up from the floor. But she growls at you and throws you again, this time harder. Your head smacks into the wall and you can see dark spots blinking in your vision.

“None of that. I’ll deal with you all later.” Dean yells angrily and stabs Josie in the back with a jagged knife you had never seen before. She screams and falls to her knees, a golden light flashing inside her body and around her eyes. What the hell did he use that caused that? The light stops flashing.

“Well, that is no way to treat a lady.” She says, nonchalantly. Dean grabs you by the arm and lifts you up, half dragging you out of the room, half running himself. Sam and Henry are not far from you. Dean is rushing you to the Impala and throws you hurriedly into the back seat, jumping into the front and starting the car. Henry jumps in the front and Sam is next to you. Before Sam even has a chance to close the door, he is driving out of the parking lot, nearly running into another car. 

Everything is silent as everyone takes a moment to breathe. You have no idea where Dean is driving, but you suddenly realize that your Saturn was left behind. You’re about to protest about it when Dean’s voice breaks the silence.

“Y/n, how’s your head?”

“Fine. I was just stunned.” You respond. You can hear him breathe and say good. He drives along a narrow road and passes under a bridge before pulling over to the side of the road. You watch as Henry practically jumps out of the passenger seat before vomiting on the side of the road. You look away and cover your ears, the sound and sight messing with your own stomach. Sam and Dean leave the car and you stay, waiting for them. You want to get involved, but considering that he was talking about John, you figured you should stay out of it. That’s their dad, let them tell you what they want you to hear. 

You lean your head back onto the seat, catching snippets of the conversation. You can hear Henry say that Josie was a demon named Abaddon. You pull out your phone, taking note to search her up later. You’d do it now, but you weren’t sure you had good signal to search online on your crappy phone.

“Y/n!” You hear Dean cry out. You run out of the car and up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Dude says he’s from 1958. You ever hear of magic that can let you do that?”

“Time travel? Yeah, Henry’s telling the truth. But that’s some serious mojo. You have to get every little detail right or you’ll end up in the wrong time. Or only parts of you end up at your intended destination. And then there’s the whole time paradox thing, so most books suggest only ever going forward not backwards. And you have to have some kind of link, some powerful object that connects you to your destination!” You are rushing throw this information, barely taking a breath as you explain everything. It’s a fascinating branch of magic, one you’ve read into, but never actually tried. 

“God, you're such a nerd.” Dean says. You choose to take it as a compliment. He turns to Henry. “That doesn't explain why you came out of our closet.” 

“If you could take me to John, we could clear all this up, I’m sure.”

“I’ve told you that’s not gonna happen.” He barks.

“Why not?”

“Because he’s dead!” You jump a little at how angry he seems. Sam is looking down at the ground, hands in his pocket. Henry is visibly distressed by the news.

“What’s it to you?” Sam says, passively. 

“Everything. I’m his father.” Everyone goes stiff and quiet, the boys looking at Henry Winchester, both thoroughly confused. There’s a beat of silence.

“Perhaps this is something we should talk about elsewhere and not on the side of the road? We did leave the food back in the motel. Along with y/c/n.” You mumble the last part. No one sees to hear it, but they did hear the rest. The three men silently make their way back to the Impala. You’re about to get into the back when Dean stops you.

“I don’t want you back there with him. You’ll ride shotgun.” He says, before moving to the driver’s side, lamenting audibly about his window. You blink before switching with Sam, him moving to the back and you in front. As Dean puts the car in drive, you switch on the stereo. Only Time Will Tell by Asia comes out of the stereo. Dean doesn’t react and everyone is quiet. You breathe, not enjoying the silence or the awkwardness of the conversation. You tap absentmindedly to the beat when Dean suddenly puts his hand overs yours to stop it. He squeezes tightly and then lets go, your face turning a little red at the contact. 

“I know it sucks to have left your car behind. When all this blows over, I’ll go with you to get her.”

“Thanks. There was a road sign back there that said something about a diner at the next exit.” He nods. 

“When was dad’s birthday?” You hear Sam mumble behind you. Dean turns up the music, drowning out whatever Henry and Sam are saying in the back. You look at Dean’s face. His jaw is tight, his eyes are slightly squinted and intense on the road, his knuckles are turning white. Classic angry Dean, just one wrong move away from blowing up. 

“Hey Dean, diners mean homemade pie in this part of the map.” He doesn’t say anything, his jaw doesn’t loosen, his eyes are still tense, but you see his grip on the wheel loosen and his back straighten. _Bingo._ You smile to yourself. 

A few minutes later, the Impala is pulling into the parking lot of random diner in the middle of nowhere. The four of you enter and head towards a table. Dean tells you to watch Henry this time, telling you he wants to speak with his brother for a second.

“Make sure he doesn’t leave. Don’t talk to him. I just need to figure something out and I don’t trust him not to bolt.”

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“What do you want to eat? I’ll order at the front.”

“Obviously a cheeseburger and fries, don’t skimp on the sauce. And a side salad, keep Sam off my back.” He nods to you, smiling, and he and Sam walk to the counter to place your orders. Henry sits at the table and before long, he is staring at a photograph. You know what Dean said, but you can’t help but ask about the photo. Henry doesn’t say anything, but shows you the picture. It’s an old (or for him new) black-and-white photograph of Henry holding a baseball with his around a young boy holding a bat. You assume that that young boy is John. You had never seen him look that happy. You also notice how similar he looks to Dean. You pass the picture back to him and he takes it, just continuing to look at it. 

You are relieved when Dean and Sam take a seat with the food; you weren’t sure how much longer you could just sit there in silence. Dean hands you your meal and you thank him.

“How you doing?” Sam and Dean ask at the same time, but Sam is looking at Henry and Dean is looking at you. You nod at Dean, telling him you’re good. He had asked you earlier. You're unsure why he is asking again.

“I’ll be fine. After all, despite everything, I’ve just met my grandsons, haven’t I? Henry Winchester. It’s a pleasure.” He holds out a hand to Sam. Sam shakes Henry’s hand and introduces himself. He then puts his hand out to Dean, who responds by tossing Henry’s burger in front of him.

“This is Dean.” Sam says.

“Right. And you?”

“Y/n.” You shake his hand.

“Granddaughter?” He asks, looking a little hopeful.

“No.”

“Granddaughter-in-law?” Dean spits out a little of the food he was eating. Sam looks at him, confused, his hands raised to keep food from flying on him.

“No!” You say quickly, red in the face. “Friend of the family. I was practically raised with those two. John was like an uncle to me.”

“Right.” He says. “Well it’s wonderful to meet you to.”

“Well, this has been touching. How about we figure out how to clean up your mess, huh?” Dean says, impatiently. 

“Abaddon. Yes. She must be stopped.” Henry replies, waving away the previous conversation.

“How come she didn’t die when I stabbed her?”

“Because demons can’t be killed by run-of-the-mill cutlery. At the very least, you’d need an ancient demon-killing knife of the kurds.” Dean takes the knife partway out of his jacket, the same one that had a jagged edge. 

“That’s what this is.”

“Where’d you get that?” You and Henry ask, almost at the same time.

“Demon gave it to me.” Dean says, more to you than to Henry. You look at Henry this time.

“Well, we figured Abaddon was a demon. But why didn’t the exorcism work either?”

“Abaddon isn’t your normal demon. She’s far more powerful.” You mull this over, and listen to the rest of the conversation, as they ask about the portal and the blood sigil time travel spell. You pull out your grimoire as Henry lists of the ingredients. You had never heard of some of these before. Tears of a dragon, a pinch of the sands of time: those were just myths. You had never actually heard of them being real! The soul thing, yeah, that made sense, although the boys had never heard of something like this.

“You should know this. What level are you two?”

“What level?”

“Level of knowledge. You’re Men of Letters, correct?” You, Sam, and Dean all look at each other. 

“I’m a little rusty on my boy bands. Men of what?”

“Men of Letters, like your father, who taught you our ways.”

“Our father taught us how to be hunters. We’re all hunters, y/n too.” Henry looks at you, his eyes wide and he starts laughing.

“You’re not. Are you? Hunters? Well, hunters are...Hunters are apes.” Everyone, including you, is a little insulted and taken back by his words. “You two, you’re supposed to --you’re legacies.” 

“Legacies of what?”

“It’s better if I show you.” He takes a few more bites of his food before standing up. He grabs a napkin and looks to you. “Do you have a pen?” You nod and hand him one, and he scribbles down an address. “We need to go here, then I can explain everything.

You all finish your food as quickly as you can and head back into the Impala. You are surprised that Dean isn’t putting up much of a fight. You want to ask him if he’s okay, but you feel it’s better to just leave him be for now.

“So, you’re a hunter too? A female hunter.” Henry asks, surprised.

“And a witch to boot.” You smile at him, heading into the front passenger seat. He seems stunned, his hand on the door knob of the car. Dean smiles at you, as if to say, “atta girl.” You smile and wink back at him.

Another fairly awkward and quiet drive later, the Impala is parking on a street that has an antique store and a restaurant. Henry gets out of the back seat, with everyone following suit, and walks down the street to a shop numbered 242. 

“What’s going on here?” Henry rushes to the door, his eyes crazy and searching. The sign above the door reads “Astro Comics.” There is a symbol carved into the door, worn and barely visible. It looks almost like a pentagram, but it’s a unicursal hexagram. You had read that the symbol had been associated to Atlantis. Henry touches the symbol and his face twists in dismay.

“All right, well, this was enlightening. Let’s hit the road, huh?” You elbow Dean, roughly. “What the hell was that for?”

“Give him a minute, Dean.” Sam says. 

“We just spent four hours driving, okay? All he did was stare out the window and request Pat Boone on the radio. He had his time.”

“Dean, be a little sensitive. You don’t know what this man has gone through.” Dean is about to protest once more when Henry speaks up, saying that the whole place is a rouse. Dean tries to find out more about the Men of Letters, but Henry brushes him aside, saying that hunters are “unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don’t-bother-to-ask-questions-later.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“What’re you taking his side for?” Dean gets upset. 

“There’s no sides here. Besides, who was it who had a gun trained on me a week ago?”

“That’s different!”

“Dean, you always go in guns ablazing first. Every Hunter does.”

“Name one more time!” You don’t even speak, you just point at Henry, reminding him that just earlier that day he had pulled a gun on his own grandfather. For the first time, Dean is speechless. 

“Come on.” Sam calls to you. While you and Dean had been arguing, Henry had walked inside the comic book store. You all follow him in. You head down a hallway with several comic and rock posters on the wall. 

“Henry. Why? Why’d she do it?” Continuing a conversation you and Dean had not been a part of due to your bickering. He holds up a small wooden box carved with the same hexagram symbol as on the door. It looked like a box that held tarot cards. 

“I think for this.”

“And what is it exactly?” You speak up.

“Wish I knew. Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.” He pockets the box again. 

“Let me get this straight. You traveled through time to protect something that does you don't know what from a demon that you know nothing about?” Henry eyes him, sighs, and walks away. You all follow Henry into the shop, where there is a young woman dressed in all black and wearing a studded leather collar. Her blonde hair had some pink in it and was tied back into a messy ponytail. You look around the comic shop, there are several good titles. You walk over to a section and you look through the X-Men collection. You look over and see Dean speaking to the young woman behind the cash register. 

You walk over as Dean grabs the computer and hands it to Sam to start searching for whatever information they had been talking about. Henry gives him some names to search up. You watch as Dean and the young woman are looking at each other. Dean gives her a small up and down. You elbow him in the rib, causing him to let out a rough grunt. The young woman smirks and looks away.

“What was that for?” He whispers sharply.  
“You keep telling me to stay focus, just thought I’d keep you honest.” You smile at him. He smacks his lips, rubbing at his side. 

“Check it out guys.” Sam says. You look at the screen where a newspaper article titled “Tragic Fire at Gentleman’s Club, 4 Dead” shows. Sam reads the names off the list of those dead. One of the names, Albert Magnus, attracts Henry’s attention. He heads back out of the comic shop quickly. Sam turns the laptop back around to the young woman. She takes it and leans over towards Dean, sliding a piece of paper.

“Call me?” She says, a seductive grin and a wink of her heavily painted eye. You grab the piece of paper instead. 

“He’s busy. Thanks.” You practically drag him away, Henry and Sam far ahead of you now. 

“What was that about?” He asks you, waving his hand back. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we’ve got work to do.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Listen Dean, this isn’t the time. We’ve got a whole lotta this to deal with first. Sam and Henry are waiting for us.”

He squints and points an index finger towards you before saying, “we’re not done with this.” You’re almost tempted to break his finger in two, but you let it go, thinking perhaps that now was not the time. You and Dean head back to the Impala, and he insists that you still sit in the passenger seat. Henry is giving Dean directions as he drives, but other than that, the car is silent, which gives you plenty of time to think about what the hell was wrong with you?! You have no idea where that jealousy was coming from. Dean doesn’t belong to you and he can do whatever he wants. He’s a grown ass man. And you’re a grown ass woman. But damn it all if you were going to stand by and let this man flirt with other women when you and he hadn’t talked about what you two were yet. You had that moment in the dining room, after your fight, and after Sherry’s death, and then in the woods. You weren’t imagining it. Dean had definitely shown interest in you as more than just a surrogate sister, even if he refused to talk about it. 

You sneak a peek at his face. His eyes were still hard on the road, but his grip was loose. There was still stubble on his chin, having not had the chance to shave that morning. The shadow made his jawline look more rugged and masculine. You found yourself fascinated by the way his mouth moved when he was concentrating. His lips pull back in a grin suddenly.

“Something on my face?” He whispers to you. You squeak out a no. Your face goes red as you turn quickly and stare out your passenger window, the sun setting now. About an hour or two after the sun sets, the Impala arrives at a heavily wooded cemetery. The boys pull out their flashlights, while you settle for your ball of magical light, grabbing a good size twig and wrapping your hair around it and adding a couple drops of blood from your fingertip. Henry seems uncomfortable with your casual use of magic, and you hold back a tart, “suck an egg” at the hypocrite who used time travel magic. 

Henry becomes sentimental, recounting his friends who helped him protect the world from demons and monsters alike. You are shining your light on the headstones when Dean’s light reveals the headstone of Albert Magnus.

“Albertus Magnus. He was hardly a buddy. He was the greatest alchemist of the middle ages.” Henry explains. You smile in recognition.

“Okay, so why is he buried here?”

“He’s not.” You pipe up. “This is probably an empty grave, right?”

“Very astute. Yes, his was the alias we’d use when going incognito.” He continues on, explaining that the name was planted so that a Man of Letters would go searching for answers. 

“So someone wanted you to come to this grave.” 

“The question is why.” 

Dean shines his flashlight on the same hexagram symbol you had seen several times that day. That had to have some significance to the Men of Letters. But what did they have to do with Atlantis.

“What’s this?” Dean asks.

“Our crest. The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power.”

“It’s specifically a unicursal hexagram, once said to stand at the gates of Atlantis.” You finished.

“Are you sure you’re a Hunter? You are quite versed in your mythology.”

“I should be. I went to college for paranormal science and parapsychology. Graduated among the top ten percent of my class.” You announce proudly. Henry smiles at you, nodding in approval. You sneak another look at Dean, who seems to be making a similar facial expression.

“That symbol seems to be on all the tombstones except for this one--Larry Ganem.” He shines his flashlight on it and Henry croches down in front of the headstone, which has a different symbol carved into it. It looks like a crucifix with four little crosses around it. 

“Young lady?” 

“Oh, uh…” You wrack your brain for the knowledge, feeling like you were back in Professor Martinez’s class again. “That’s the Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead, isn’t it?”

“Brilliant. Yes. This is the message. You boys ever exhume a body?” Dean and Sam give each other a look, as if to say, “hell yeah we have.”

Quite some time passes and the boys are shoveling in the grave, the coffin almost fully exposed. You and Henry are crouched nearby, and he has been quizzing you on your knowledge the entire time.

“Tell me how we got stuck doing this?” Dean says, loudly.

“Because I didn’t want to break a nail!” You call back, jokingly. “I actually don’t care about breaking a nail. It’s just fun to make them do all the hard work.” You say to Henry as the boys are lifting the coffin out of the grave.

“How long have you all known each other?” Henry asks you.

“Oh, since Sam and I were in diapers. As far as I can remember, there’s always been Sam and Dean. We all learned how to Hunt together too.” You can recall those days, where the three of you were first learning with b.b. guns. You and Dean were very competitive with each other, sneaking out back to shoot cans and see who had the best shot. You had pushed him right when he was about to take the final shot that could have made him the winner, causing it to go wide and the shot hit the nearby tree. He had been so mad at you then, but was silenced with a quick pucker of the lip and big sad eyes. Dean had always been a sucker for your look. 

“Hey, if you two ladies are done gossiping, we got a body here!” You roll your eyes at him and walk over. There is a skeleton wearing a suit lying in the coffin, which seems to be from the wrong era. Sam points out a metal tag on the clothes that reads Captain Thomas J. Carey III. Henry doesn’t know who that is though. 

“Somebody wanted you to see this, so maybe that somebody is Larry.”

“So, what, maybe he, uh, survives the attack and hides out with this guy’s identity?”

“Okay, what are we waiting for, then? Cover this up. Let’s be on our way.” He says, walking away. You hide a smile as Dean looks up at you.

“What’re you looking at me for?”

“Care to help Princess?”

“Oh, but I have a much better view from up here.” You say, surprised at yourself for the boldness of the comment. Dean also looks a little taken aback before getting to work quickly. But you swear, even in the dark, you see the edge of his mouth move up in an appreciative smirk.

Henry is whistling “As Time Goes By,” a classic tune that you can get behind. Sam is reading his dad’s journal at the table. Dean is using the laptop next to Sam, and you are sitting on the bed, pouring over your tome on demons. After Sam and Dean had finished reburying the body,you had all agreed that it was getting late and it was time to recoup. You had decided on renting one room this time around, no one feeling particularly comfortable with letting you sleep alone with Abaddon on the loose. Dean and Sam had agreed on sleeping in one bed, Henry would be on the couch, and you would get the second Queen sized bed to yourself. “Looks like I upgraded from princess, hey Dean.” You had said, before jumping on it dramatically and settling on research to see where you had heard the name Abaddon before. 

“What is that? I know that tune.” Dean asked out of the blue.

“‘As Time Goes By.’ I hope so. It’s from ‘Casablanca.’” Henry answered casually.

“Right. Dad used to whistle it from time to time.” Sam reminded Dean. You remembered that too. He did it a lot on stake outs, when you all went out hunting as a large group, or when he was drunk. You try and tune out what seemed to be a very precious family moment as you begin to zero in on a lead. You finally find it, but there’s a slight change in what Henry had spelled earlier. In your tome, it was written as Abaton and was described as having been an angel first, before becoming the personification of destruction. You hear Sam’s voice grows louder too, as he had found something as well. 

“...working for Abaddon, who, it turns out, is a Knight of Hell.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Knights of Hell are hand-picked by Lucifer himself. They are first fallen, first born demons.” Henry answers.

“That makes sense.” You pipe up. “From what I found, Abaddon was an angel first and was thought to be part of the Final Judgement. He, or I guess she, later became known the king of the abyss, that would bring about destruction and could command an army of locusts.”

“So very pure, very strong.” Sam says. 

“Legend has it that Archangels had killed all of them, which, as we have witnessed, is not the case.” Henry said, standing and walking towards the table where Sam and Dean were. 

“Unless she’s the last of her kind.” Dean adds. You place a marker in the tome, so that you don’t have to go searching for her later, and close the tome, placing it on the bedside table. You stretch out, watching as Henry is examining John’s journal. It’s getting real late and you are beyond tired from having spent so many hours cramped in the car. You leave the room, giving the three men some privacy as you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth and change into some pajamas. What with there being three men in the room though, your pajamas are going to consist more of a normal t-shirt and probably sweatpants, which would have to do for now. You had just finished pulling your sweatpants on when you heard the door to the motel room slam. You run out of the room, as Sam is getting up.

“What happened?” You ask, looking for Dean and piecing together the story. Before Sam can even answer, you head outside after him. You see him, sitting against the Impala, his face buried in his hands. You approach slowly and lean against the car, next to him. You don’t say anything, just remain quiet, standing next to him, looking at the stars. 

“You know, a lot of magic users use the stars as a central point to any spell they cast? They draw on the celestial magic of them, based on a lot of mythology that comes from the constellations.” He doesn’t say anything, but you go on anyways. “Those three stars there, they make up Orion’s belt. And those stars there make up his torso and his legs. Oh, and there are the arms. At least I think those are his arms? Anyways, Orion is known as the Hunter. So a lot of witches will invoke his spirit whenever they are hunting animals, or to provide protection. When I first started delving into magic and could really understand how spellcasting worked, I used to pray to Orion to keep you and Sam safe.” He looks up at you now, his eyes intense, staring at you with an emotion you aren’t used to seeing in his eyes. The vulnerability shakes you, but you can’t look away. 

“It’s ridiculous. Him waltzing in here, acting like he’s so high and mighty. He’s got no right. He’s got no clue! No clue what dad went through, or what Sammy and I went through!” He’s fuming, his nostrils flaring, hands balled into fists. You put your hand on his shoulder, sliding your other hand into his. His hand loosens to accept yours, squeezing in acknowledgement. 

“It’s not fair. And you have every right to be angry.” You didn’t say that Henry also had a right to be angry. Or that perhaps this was an emotion that could be saved after the danger was averted. For now, Dean needed to hear that he was allowed to feel what he was feeling at that moment. 

“If he had been there--” 

“You don’t know what would have happened. If Henry had stayed in his time, he could have been killed by Abaddon. Or maybe if he never left John that night, the whole world would be gone. Or perhaps everything would have worked out and you’d be Men of Letters. You might not even know I existed if that were the case.” You blushed and looked down, away from his intense green eyes. “But the world is full of what-ifs. You can’t find yourself dwelling on what ifs, you just have to take life by the balls, accept the actions that have been taken, and continue forward. No sense looking back and wondering what could have happened or what should have happened.” There is a beat of silence and Dean lets go of your hand, placing it instead on your chin, lifting your face up to look at his. The stare he gives you is intense and a shiver rolls down your spine. His thumb is stroking your cheek slowly, and you lean into it, caressing the sensation. He isn’t moving though, and neither are you, and you’re frozen there, time slowing down around you. 

“Thank you.” He croaks, his voice raspy, like there was something stuck in his throat. You gulp, trying to stop the dryness that was in your throat.

“No--No problem.”

“When this is over, when it all rolls over, there’s something else I want to do, before it’s too late. Okay?” Your brain shuts down, a whole 404 Error, as it runs through hundreds of scenarios, from him telling you to take a hike to something far more...erotic. He looks like he is going to move in closer to your face when you both hear a door open and footsteps making their way towards you. You separate instantly, your face turning deep red as you look away from the approaching body and back up at Orion the Hunter. 

“You good Dean?” Sam’s voice came. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Y/n came and talked to me. I’m fine man. Thanks for checking.”

“Yeah, just couldn’t be in there anymore with him either.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Deans’ voice was still raspy and deep, but he was trying very hard to masquerade the change in his voice.

“Y/n, what are you looking at?”

“Stars.” You squeak out, sounding very undignified. 

“She was telling me about Orion.” Dean explains. 

“The stars are real nice out here.” The three of you eventually spend the next several minutes looking up at the stars, with you pointing out various constellations, before the three of you realize there is no sense in avoiding Henry Winchester any longer. You all walk into the motel room, Henry not even bothering to look up from John’s journal. Dean and Sam take one of the beds while you take the second. You spread out comfortably, grinning to yourself at imagining the boys right next door trying to get comfortable themselves, hearing the soft grunts as they position and fight over the better pillow, before you close your eyes. 

As you drift off to sleep, you dream of _Dean, shirtless and moving towards you, intense green eyes. He has the demon dagger in hand and he grabs you around the waist, dagger pointing away from you, assuming a protective stance. “Just stay close Y/N.” He says to you, his fingers slipping into your jeans as he tugs you to his side. You relish the feel of them, calloused and rough, wondering what they would feel like elsewhere. “Eyes ahead. She’s coming.” “Who?” “Abaddon. But you and me, we can take her together.” “Hell yeah!” You respond enthusiastically. Your spirit falters, however, when you see the face of the figure that is speeding towards you. It’s not the red headed woman in the blue dress you had come to know as Abaddon. It was Alex! But he was different, and his eyes were completely black, like a demon had possessed him. “Dean, wait!” You cry out. But he lets go of you and slams into Alex, knife plunging into your late husband’s chest. You scream out and he looks at you, his eyes still black. “How could you do this to me?” He pleads, dropping to the floor._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! It's not the end of the episode, but the chapter was running long and I didn't want it to drag, so I cut it into two chapters. But trust me, I will make it worth your while. We have another chapter in season canon and then back to a story of my own. Hope you all like it.  
> Thank you for sticking with me! :D


	11. Back to the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second half of chapter 10. Enjoy. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Major character death

You bolt up in bed, the beginning sunlight peeking through the curtains. You’re drenched in sweat, and a little shaken by the nightmare. You look over at Dean and Sam, who are, quite adorably, spooning one another. You’re unsurprised to see that Dean is the big spoon. You head to the bathroom to wash your face when you notice something strange. Henry isn’t on the couch. It takes a moment for your brain to register that with the haze of sleep still surrounding you, but when it hits you, you’re moving quickly. 

“Dean! Sam!” You call out. Sam is the first to rouse from his sleep. He wipes the sleep from his eyes, taking note of Dean’s position. He startles, nearly falling out of the bed, as he moves quickly out of Dean’s grasp. Dean smacks his lips and readjusts, easily returning to his sleep. Sam moves over to you.

“You, uh, didn’t see that right?”

“See what?” You ask, absentmindedly, searching the table. Sam sighs in relief. You find a note signed by Henry, saying that he was planning on fixing everything. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Look at this!” You shove the notepad into his hand. Sam scans it and his eyes go wide. He moves towards Dean, hitting him on the shoulder with the notepad. Dean, startled awake, rises a bit, his hand still on the pillow, hoping it’s a dream and he can return to sleep. 

“What? What?”

“Y/N found this note. It’s Henry--he’s gone.”

“Where is he?” He turns, looking at you. But Sam answers, giving him the overview of the contents of the note. 

“Yeah, or screw it all up.” He groggily rises from the bed, shaking away the sleep. He puts on his coat and walks outside, a man on a mission, no doubt to check on the Impala. 

“Did he say anything last night to you?”

“Not that I can think of. I went to sleep at the same time you and Dean did. Henry was just sitting at the table looking through John’s journal.”

“There’s gotta be a clue as to where he went.”

“Now we know what he meant by ‘fix everything.’” Right on cue, Dean walks in, informing you and Sam that Henry stole an angel feather from the truck. They theorize what Henry’s plan of action is, but it doesn’t matter what Henry does. If he goes back, if he stays in John’s life, that will wreck the timeline. The boys might not be born, or the world could end because they don’t become Hunters. The repercussions of time travel are vast, which is why, despite temptation, you never cast any time spells. Sam wonders if there are any stores that sell real hoodoo when you suddenly remember your conversation with Henry at the cemetery. 

“There is.” You say timidly. They both look at you. “I am so sorry. I didn’t think anything of it at the time!”

“What do you mean?” Dean looks at you, a little pissed. 

“Henry asked what I did before I became a Hunter, about how I gained all of this knowledge, in between quizzing me on various facts. I told him I owned a bookstore and herbal shop, where I would sell ingredients to Hunters. I still have a list of suppliers and contacts in the bizz.” You point to your bag at the foot of the bed. Dean rummages through it and pulls out a small black ringed notebook, giving you an inquisitive look. He flips through the pages, and then shows what appears to be a gap with remnants of torn paper.

“Well, now we know what he’s looking for, we just don’t know who or where.”

“Give it to me, I might be able to remember.” You scan through the book again, which had been in alphabetical order. You then pull out your own laptop as Dean and Sam listen to a police radio report on a homicide at the comic shop you had both been to previously. There were only so many people who could sell the heavy duty mojo Henry would need, so narrowing it down would be...Bingo! You get the name, giving yourself an imaginary pat on the back. You let the boys know that you have the info. 

“Okay, so he’s close. I’ll go find Henry. You and Y/n find Larry. Figure out how to kills this chick.” Dean makes to leave the room, but you slam the laptop shut and walk towards him, grabbing his arm roughly.

“Give me five minutes, I’ll be changed and right behind you.” 

“Nu’uh. You’re going with Sam and that’s final. Less dangerous.”

“Good luck finding out which store he went to without me.” You smile at him, smugly. He looks at you and then back at Sam, who shrugs at him, saying “Don’t look at me. I’ve never been able to say no to her.”

“Three minutes. Not a second more.” You grab a random shirt and jeans and rush to the bathroom, pulling your clothes off your plaid shirt on and jumping into your jeans. You open the bathroom door, rushing out and pulling your jeans on, hopping on one leg to get them around your waist. It’s a pretty funny scene to behold. 

“Ya good there twinkle toes?” 

“Yeah! Just need to get my boots on.” You grab them and continue the comical dance of trying to change while making your way to the door. You start to fall over as you put on your left shoe. Dean catches you before you hit the floor, and using him to stabilize, you put your last boot on. “Time!” You declare, looking to Sam.

“Two minutes and 47 seconds.” Sam says, smiling from behind his laptop.

“Really?”

“No clue. Start over, I’ll keep track this time.”

“Ass.” You say.

“I’m gonna drop you.” Dean says, and you suddenly become very aware that his arms are still around you. You straighten up quickly. 

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go. Gotta stop Henry from making a huge mistake and all. See ya Sam, stay safe and don’t get murdered.” You start heading out to the door and straight to the car, waiting at the passenger’s door of the car. There was a time to be bold and then there was a time for full on panic. Dean holding you in his arms in front of his brother, who you also consider like a brother, is definitely a panic mode, you feel. Dean opens the Impala, throwing you a smile. 

“Don’t be an ass you ass. Come on.” You give Dean the address and then turn the radio up to high, to drown out Dean’s laughter. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here! Here! Riya’s shop is here.” 

“Well, let’s go then.” He parks the car and heads to Riya’s shop, which you knew for a fact carried some heavy duty mojo. 

You hear Henry speaking words in a language you did not recognize, but was very sure that it was the time traveling spell. On a door was a symbol glowing bright gold with the energy of the spell’s invocation. 

“Henry, wait!” Dean shouts. 

“This is a risk I have to take.”

“And what if you die, huh? Who said you’ll even survive a jump?”

“Where’s Riya?” You ask. Henry turns towards you both, the symbol’s glow fading away as he stops the spell casting. 

“Who?”

“The woman who runs the store! Where is she? No way she’s just gonna let you cast something this heavy duty in her shop.”

“Behind the counter, unharmed.” He then turns to Dean, the tension palpable between the two.

“Come on man, there’s gotta be a better way.” Dean says, but you ignore the exchange between Henry and Dean, moving over to Riya. She’s on the floor behind the counter. You bend down to check her pulse, which you feel, although it is slow. You place your ear to her mouth and can hear her breath. It looks like she’s had a sleeping spell of some kind cast upon her. With some ginseng and cinnamon and a bit of Riya’s hair, you could reverse the sleeping spell, you’re pretty sure. 

You move quickly around the shop, ignoring Henry and Dean’s occasional pause and stare at you, acting similarly to an extra coming in and stopping an important, dramatic scene. But what Henry did to Riya wasn’t right, putting her to sleep and then taking her things. You find cinnamon sticks, ginseng root, and a stone mortar and pestle. You grind together the ingredients together until they’re a fine powder mixed together. 

“Because it’s the right thing to do! I can save him and stop Abaddon!” You hear Henry scream suddenly, much louder than before, causing you to jump. You pause right before spraying the powder in Riya’s face and come up from behind the counter.

“How?” Dean asks.

“By going back an hour before she attacks and making preparations.”

“Are you insane?” You blurt out. They both look at you. “Playing with time travel is dangerous. Moving to the future doesn’t mess with the timeline that greatly because, well, history has already happened. But changing an event in the past, you could destroy the whole world!”

“Me and Sam might cease to exist!” Dean adds. 

“I’m aware that time is a delicate mistress, but I’m willing to bet on this being for the best.”

“Listen, I understand that this is not your idea of a happy ending, okay, and that – that you're disappointed that me and Sam are mouth-breathing hunters. But you know what? We stopped the Apocalypse.”

“If this works the way I planned, there will never be an Apocalypse to stop.”

“That’s not how it works Henry! You have no idea what could happen! You could go back and make preparations and Abaddon would still kick your asses! And you might not survive. Or any other scenarios. You’re acting like an idiot!” You yelled back. An absolute complete moron! Dean is about to lay in to him too before his phone rings. He moves away to take the call, and you and Henry are seething, looking at each other. 

“Abaddon.” You hear Dean breathe out. You break eye contact from him and head to Dean, placing your hand on his arm. 

“Crystal.” He says, before hanging up.

“Abaddon has Sam?” Henry asks quietly.

“She wants to trade you and the key for Sam’s life.” Deans replies to him. _It’s a good thing I insisted on coming with you, huh._ You think to yourself, but stop yourself from saying it out loud. “And what if you can’t fix this? I can’t take the risk that you’ll mess up -- not with Sammy on the hook now.” 

“I can’t abandon my son, Dean! Not again! I’m sorry.” He turns around to start casting again. You grab some lavender sprig from the shelves.

“I’m sorry too.” Dean says, grabbing Henry from behind in a choke hold. Henry starts fighting back, trying to break the hold. You move more quickly, grabbing a smokey quartz as well. You crumble the lavender over the stone and chant “somnum” three times. You look over. Dean’s grip is strong, but Henry is still flailing. This was going to take too long.

“Dean, keep him still!”

“You wanna hold him?” He yells back. You slip the stone into his pocket and he goes slack in Dean’s arms. “What’d you do?”

“Sleeping charm. Duh. Put him in the car, I’m going to go wake up Riya.” He drags Henry out and you grab the powder you had mixed earlier.

_“Ex somno excitare.”_ She stays asleep. “Damnit. Uhhh, I don’t have the time to stay with you Riya, I’m really sorry. But I’m sure you’ll wake up soon.” You leave a quick note on her notepad, saying sorry, before rushing back out to the Impala and jumping into the back seat. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several hours of driving, the sun going down and it getting dark again, the three of you make it to the power plant that Abaddon had told them to go to. You had done your best to prep a hex bag, but with the bumping of the road and the dwindling of supplies, you had only been able to make one protection bag and a bag to make a blast of smoke. You give each a protection bag you had made before, warning them that the older they are, the less effective they become.

“What, these things have an expiration date?”

“Yes Dean. They’re made with herbs and dead things. They have an expiration date.” 

“Are these the things that you said use your energy to power them?” 

“Yes…” 

“Nu’uh. You keep these. I’m not letting you get hurt because one of us messes up.” He places the two hex bags in your hands and then goes to handcuff Henry, leaving one arm exposed as planned. He moves on ahead and motions for you both to follow. 

“Shh.” You whisper to Henry, before slipping the hex bag back into his pocket. He only nods to you. You weren’t letting the plan get messed up prematurely. 

“All right, you stay back. If things go south, you run and call Garth.” Dean whispers as you approach the end of the corridor. 

“Course.” You agree and wait a couple of seconds before following behind them. You all walk into the large room where Abaddon was with Sam. 

“Abaddon! I’ll send Henry here over with the box. You do the same with Sam. No tricks.” He puts the box into Henry’s jacket pocket. 

“My only interest is Henry and the key. You three are free to go.”

“Three?” Dean turns around and looks at you, giving an exasperated sigh as you wiggle your fingers at him sheepishly. Busted. He shakes his head and then gives Henry a shove, who refuses to move. Dean takes out his gun, and tells Henry that it’s the easy way or the hard way. You watch, nervously, as Henry and Sam both begin to walk to the other side. Sam eventually makes his way to Sam, who pulls a knife out to cut his restraints. There’s no way that this is going to work, you think. Abaddon is totally going to betray all of you, you’re beyond sure. No demon just lets her prey go. A part of you wishes you had stayed in the car, but another part is glad that if you’re going to go, at least it’s with people you care about.

“Don't do this, Dean. This is a bad idea.”

“Shut your mouth. Let's go.”

“Y/n, tell him.”

“Sam, come on. Just listen to Dean.” You look solemn. You didn’t like this. You didn’t want to agree to this, but Henry and Dean insisted on this course of action. Dean cuts the rope around Sam’s hands and the three of you head to the door. But with a motion, Abaddon closes the door to the exit.

“Fuck!” You yell.

“We had a deal!” Dean says, turning around to face Abaddon. 

“Surprise. I lied.” Abaddon plunges a hand into Henry’s abdomen and you suddenly feel the same pain, gripping at your stomach. 

“Henry!” Sam starts to run to Dean.

“Sammy wait! Wait!” Dean yells out, stopping Sam in his tracks. 

“Dean.” You whisper. Something wasn’t right and you felt the energy draining, trying to keep Henry alive long enough for the plan to work.

“Y/n?” He goes to you, holding you up as you lean against him for support, the feeling in your legs leaving. You hear the gunshot and look up as Henry pulls the trigger of a gun, which is held under Abaddon’s chin. Her skull glows with bright light. “You gave him one of your hex bags didn’t you? Damnit I told you not to.” It felt a little hard to breathe; you kept your hand tight on your abdomen, to stop the bleeding. But, how odd, you couldn’t feel any blood on your hands. Your vision doubled and you saw two Abaddons, recovering from the shot.

“Whoo! What a blast. Now, give me the box.” She reaches into Henry’s jacket pocket and takes out a pack of cards. It registers that she’s been duped and she throws it to the ground. 

“Where is it?!” Her demonic energy releases, causing the boxes to crash against the walls around you. The lights go off and on as sparks fly from the electrical outburst. Abaddon grabs Henry chin and attempts to possess his mind to steal the information she needed, but when she is unsuccessful, she throws Henry to the ground. She them tries to move, but is unable to. Henry had carved a devil’s trap into the bullet he used to shoot Abaddon with, trapping her where she stood. Good thing the bullet didn’t exit or else there’d be Hell to pay. Sam runs up to Henry, gathering him up as Dean had gathered you up. 

“I’ve gotta set you down.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You say to him, nodding weakly. He moves towards Abaddon as she continues to throw another tantrum when she realizes why she’s stuck. She looks at you, hoveled on the floor.

“You still didn’t kill me.” She smiles at you. “And I seemed to have taken out two of you.”

“They’ll be just fine, but you, not so much.” In one swift motion, he slices her head off with a machete he had hidden on his person when he’d walked in. Dean walks back over to you, helping you walk over to Henry. “All’s left is to cut her up and bury each part of her and then she’s gone for good.” You nod at him. “I told you that hex bag was a bad idea!” 

“Shut up Dean.” You tell him, not in the mood. It felt like your insides were spilling out. 

“We did it.” Henry says as you both catch up.

“No, you did it. For a bookworm, that wasn’t bad, Henry.” Dean helps you down to the floor and he croches next to you. Henry looks at you.

“I’d be dead already if it weren’t for you.”

“Think nothing of it. Now we just have to patch you up and you’ll be good as new.” You smile weakly, barely believing your own words. You can continue to feel the energy leaving you, flowing into Henry, keeping him alive. 

“No. No. It’s okay.” He smiles at the three of you in turn. “I’m sorry I judged you to so harshly for being Hunters. I should have known better.”

“About?” Sam asks. Dean is just staring at Henry, his grandfather. 

“You're also Winchesters. As long as we're alive, there's always hope. I didn't know my son as a man, but having met you two…I know I would have been proud of him.” Henry takes Dean’s and Sam’s hands, squeezing them. He lets go of their hands and shakily pulls out the hex bag. “Stop the flow of magic. It’s killing you.” You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. The second you break that spell, Henry will die. You are sure of it. Even though you weren’t the one who caused this injury, letting go now would mean you were the one to kill Henry Winchester, and you couldn’t have that on your conscience. No more deaths. 

“Give it here.” Dean pulls out a lighter and goes to grab the bag. 

“Dean!” You protest weakly.

“Y/n, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He lights the bag and throws it to the floor, blue flames consuming it. Henry smiles one last time and falls limp in Sam’s arms. The moment Henry dies you feel the energy that was leaving your body stop. While you don’t feel any better, your heart has stopped racing and the feeling of death leaves you. Sam looks down at the box that Henry had placed in his hand and then up at Dean. 

“We should-” He begins, before Dean interrupts him with a terse, “yeah.” Dean lifts you, carrying you in his arms, and Sam grabs Henry. 

“I can walk.” You try to say. 

“Yeah, just like you could walk last time you used this much magic. Why don’t you shut up for once and just let me do something nice, huh?” His eyes weren’t looking at you, and while his words were a little harsh, you let him get away with it. The man just lost his grandfather, even if he didn’t like him all that much. Perhaps Dean just needed to feel like he could help someone. You lean into his hold and allow him to place you into the front seat of the Impala. 

“I’m going to help Sam. Don’t fall asleep just yet, please.”

“I’m not going to die Dean. At least not tonight, pinky promise. Just gonna rest my eyes for a bit.”

“Fine. I’m holding you to that promise.”

“That’s not the only think you can hold me to.” You giggle, a little loopy from the draining of the spell. 

“Is that so?” He leans down towards you and kisses you softly on the forehead. His lips leave a pleasant burn on your skin. “We’re not done with this, but now isn’t the best time, I think.” 

“Hmm?” You try and respond, but sleep is taking you. You close your eyes and drift away. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

When you wake up, you’re now in the back of the Impala, Sam and Dean in the front. The sun is up in the sky. You look at the clock on the radio; it’s about 9 in the morning. You can hear Dean's favorite rock mix CD playing at low volume. 

“What's going on?” You ask through cotton mouth. Dean turns back and gives you a smile. A slight moment of dread hits you as you recall another nightmare of Alex being slewn by Dean. You wave it away though and smile back. 

 

“We're heading back to get your T-COW and then heading to Kansas!” He says, drumming the steering wheel. 

“What's in Kansas? And did you just call y/c/n trash?”

“Men of Letters bunker.” Sam responds as Dean exclaims, “yeah, I did!” You pinch his arm roughly, ignoring Sam's more important comment. 

“Take it back!”

“Owww! Fine. I take it back. Damn, she's so violent. Where'd she pick that up from?”

“Yeah, I wonder. Bitch.” You turn to Sam. “What'd you say?” Sam repeats himself. 

“Why are we going to a Men of Letters bunker? Why isn't Henry…” you trail off, memories of the previous night coming back. Dean burned the hex bag. Henry is…

“Dead.” Dean finishes your thought.

“We buried him. Then we found a key on the back of the box and a note from Henry in Dad's journal talking about the bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. Actually, they were coordinates left by his friend Larry and talking about all the knowledge it had. But we figured, since we're legacies, it's for us now.” Sam details. 

“I am so sorry boys.” Everyone gets quiet again. Mercifully, it isn’t long before you all fall back into your usual banter the rest of the trip. 

Your Saturn is still at the motel, by the grace of God. It seems what with the recent murder of the motel owner, they overlooked calling a tow truck for an abandoned car.

“I am so sorry precious! I will never leave you again!” You say, hugging your car hood. 

“Alright alright. Come on. The longer we stay, the more questions we get asked.”

“Fine. Food and then Kansas?”

“Heh, yeah. Food and then Kansas.” 

As you follow Dean and Sam in your Saturn, you are finally left with your thoughts, to ruminate on the nightmares you’d had twice now, ever since Dean told you that he wanted to have a serious chat. In your line of business, it was a bad idea to ignore an omen like that. You had made sure to salt and burn Alex’s body when he passed away, so you knew it wasn’t a ghost, but bad aura could always remain. Perhaps, after the week, it might be time to go back home and see how everyone was? You hated to leave Dean behind, but you wouldn’t feel right until you saw Alex again, until you checked to make sure Tara was handling the coven well, until you made sure Morgan was settled in the house. Kansas isn’t too far from your old town, considering the lack of traffic in this part of the states. You could follow Dean and Sam to the bunker, settle there for a day or two, and then head back… Dean wouldn’t mind right?

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yeah, we can definitely head back there.”

“No, Dean, you aren’t understanding. I’m thinking about going back. Just me.” You were at the table at the heart of the bunker, where Sam spent most of his time pouring over the millions of beautiful books supplied by the Men of Letters. You had your duffel bag, lightly packed with clothes. 

“And I don’t think you’re understanding me. We’re going with you.” You had been avoiding him a bit since you had come to the bunker two days ago. You spent a lot of the time helping Sam dive into the books and start looking at what they had on hand. There were several spell books you had only heard of in college, but never thought you would see. Or things that had only been whispered of. Dean had tried to corner you once or twice, probably to finish that chat he had promised you, but you didn’t feel right. If Dean was going to say there was nothing between you both, you didn’t want to hear it. But if he was going to say the opposite, you had to put this nasty business with Alex behind you first. You’d had another nightmare the previous night, which is what told you it was time to go.

“I am not a baby Dean. I can take care of myself. It’s a short trip, I’d be back in a week, maybe a week in a half! No sweat!”

“And it’d be easier if we were there with you. I know you can handle yourself, that’s not the issue here. The issue is that we’re finally together, let’s keep it that way!” You were both getting heated. It was fairly early in the morning, maybe 10 or 11, and poor Sam was awkwardly drinking coffee at the table, his eyes darting back and forth as each of you take turns yelling. You sigh and place your fingers against your eyes, a small headache forming. 

“I’m not leaving you guys for good. I’ll be back. This is just something I need to do. Some unfinished business.” Dean moves towards you, dropping his voice, looking at Sam awkwardly and then back at you.

“You’ve been avoiding me since we got here. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No! No!” You whisper back quickly. 

“Then why?” He asks, with a finality. 

You hesitate, but it’s better you’re honest. “Dean, my husband was buried there.” 

“Ah!” He moves away from you, swinging his arms back and forth. “I read you, loud and clear.”

“Sam, I’m going to stop back at the Family Business. Morgan is supposed to be managing it. Do you want me to pick up any ingredients? Books you haven’t seen here yet?”

“Nope.” He tells you after thinking for a bit. 

“I’ll miss you both. I’ll be back soon. I promise!” 

“I’ll call and check in on you now and then.” You smile at him, your heart feeling full. 

“Call me if you two die, eh? The trouble you get into when I’m gone.” You wink at them and leave the bunker with your copy of the key, which Sam had found when digging through a cabinet in the what you all dubbed the “war room.” You’d be back, definitely, after you had some time to yourself. You’d be back.


	12. Run of the Mills Salt and Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jody calls Dean about unusual murders. It's time for y/n to return to Sioux Falls, this time as a Hunter. But there may be more than just a phantom as she is also confronted with a ghost from her own past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Non-Con and rape. It isn't detailed, it's mostly mentioned. But there is a flashback sequence where reader is in a scenario where non-con is attempted, but not fulfilled. You know your limits, so please be mindful.
> 
> Another shout out to Squibbles94. This was a hard chapter to write and read, so thank you for getting through it!

“And then Dean chopped her head off, in one swoop! It was incredible! Of course, I didn’t really get to see it because I felt like I was bleeding out on the floor. Protection bag you see.” You say to Alex. Well, to his gravestone. You had been putting off visiting his grave for the past five days. You had been busy helping Tara and Morgan adjust. You hadn’t realized that leaving suddenly meant that they were very confused about their various duties. You’d spent a lot of time training the two on their jobs, as High Priestess and store owner respectfully. And while Dean was enjoying being able to relax for once, you could tell her was bored, considering that he would call you about three or four times a day since you left. He didn’t even talk long, just checked that you were safe, checked that you were enjoying your time, and then ask when you were coming back. 

You had only just now been able to sit down with Alex and recount your tales. You enjoyed talking to him like this, even if he couldn’t hear you and he couldn’t respond. Some people would see you doing this in the past and say he was enjoying watching you and protecting you from above. But you knew better. With the salt and burn, his connection to the earth should be severed. He was enjoying himself in Heaven, which Dean and Sam had told you existed, along with angels. You shared that fact with Alex as well. When you had run out of adventures to tell him, having only been on three with the boys, you got to the real reason you had made your way back home.

“Before you died, we talked about what would happened, if...if one of us were to die. You hated that talk, I remember that. But I thought it was important, what with how I grew up. We had decided that if one us passed, we would continue on with our lives. Meet new people, fall in love again. Well, I’m not sure if this is love yet, but I did find someone. Dean, if you’d believe it. Yeah, the one I told you I had a crush on in high school. He stormed back into my life, pulled a freaking gun on me, but I guess those feelings never went away. I just put them in a dormant place.” You hesitate, a lump forming on your throat and tears threatening to spill. But the words come and the bike quick as you are speaking once more. 

“And I know, I know, you can’t hear me, and this is probably just me being silly, but I felt like if I didn’t tell you what was going on, something bad might happen. Perhaps that was just my guilt.. How could I go and fall for someone who wasn’t you. But I am asking you to please let it be okay. Please understand that if I move on, it’s not because I never loved you or that I am forgetting you. I could never…” Your voice starts to break and tears flow down your face. You were only talking to a stone, so damnit, why was it so hard!

“Because it’s never easy to say goodbye.” A soft voice whispered behind you. Your heart leapt. There’s no way! You turn around, expecting to see those familiar eyes, the same hair, that stupid grin. But it was just a trick of your imagination, a moment of your heart telling your mind what you heard, and you see Tara behind you. “The winds called me here.” She said, sitting down next to you. 

“Hey, sorry, did you still need me?” 

“No. I think you need me.” She said, still the same etherealness to her voice, like she wasn’t really there. 

“I shouldn’t need permission…”

“Humans always want permission. It’s our nature.” 

“Alex can’t give me that. He’s dead.”

“Yes. He is.” It was a statement of fact, with an air of wonder to it. “But you are not.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Give yourself permission. Your wall is thick. There are many locks. Open. Allow. Love.” She smiled at you. You laugh to yourself. 

“You’re a good High Priestess, you know that? Wisdom beyond your years.”

“It is an old soul that rests here. One who has seen much and learned much. She teaches me. I continue.” 

“Excuse me?”

“Perhaps another story for another time, y/n. For now, you should continue your own. What will you do?” Perhaps Tara was right, but still, the omen…

“Come here. Close your eyes.” You do as she says and move forward towards her, remaining with your legs crossed, and she places her hands on your head. She starts muttering something under her breath, so fast and so softly, you can’t make it out, but you are sure it’s some kind of spell. You trust her, and as she continues, another moment of peace hits you, followed by a warmth around her hands. After a minute, she lets go.

“The storm in your mind is gone. It was not an omen, but your own emotions.”

“Oh…” She smiles at you and starts to get up. 

“You are going to be needed. Perhaps you should head back soon. They will need you when they return.”

“What do you mean?”

“Goodbye High Priestess.” She walks away from you, and as she does, a wind picks up suddenly, causing several leaves to whip through her hair. 

“She is a strange girl Alex. Real strange.” You look back at the gravestone. A single white lily pokes out of the grave. “I love you too. I’ll keep you with me, always.” You blow the gravestone a kiss, now feeling like you have fully put this behind you. Whatever Dean has to say, you’re ready. You head back to Morgan’s house to rest and pack. You start to plan in your head. You could starting heading back home day after tomorrow, just to make sure you have everything in order. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time you get home, there had been a note left on the table. _Went on a case. Gonna go kill some nazis?_ That was a couple days ago. You’d been wandering the bunker since then, reading books and trying to keep yourself occupied. But being alone in the bunker was boring! Sure there was plenty to read, but it was all nonfiction and some of it was very complicated and very dangerous, not stuff you wanted to get into on your own. There may have been a small stereo, but there was no television and you were on house arrest for going off Hunting with no heads up. Sure, they had done the same, but the difference is, you’d gotten hurt. 

Stupid move, telling Sam and Dean that you had found a small group of vamps tried to solo it. Granted, you had definitely cleaned them out, there having only been three, but you’d taken a few licks. You probably had a broken rib and definitely had several bruises and cuts. The boys would have made out the same, you had argued back, but even Sam was pretty insistent. They wanted to come back home with you in one piece. They were just being paranoid. 

You were sitting in the “war room,” listening to Billie Holiday croon from the stereo and reading a random grimoire on defensive magic, when you hear Sam and Dean talking as they open the bunker. You look up at them both and smile. They see you and Dean grins wide, before suddenly taking on a stern looks.

“How many?” 

“It was just three!”

“How?” He said, walking down the stairs towards you, Sam following. 

“The talk in town made it seem like two. I didn’t realize they had recently turned another one. He got the jump on me, hit me real hard into the wall.” 

“We should take a look, make sure it isn’t serious.”

“If you want, but I’m telling you, it’s just a hurt rib. Probably bruised. Doesn’t hurt enough to have actually been broken. If it were anything serious, we’d have known by now.” You try to joke, but he doesn’t laugh.

“You really should be more careful Y/n. We know you’re capable, but even we don’t go after that many vamps alone.” Sam says.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll be more careful next time, but that’s not going to stop me from helping people.” You tell them, to which Dean gives a sound of frustration. 

“I’m going to need something harder than beer.” He moves towards the library. Sam takes a card from the drawer and joins you at the table. Dean comes out with a bottle of scotch and three glasses.

“What’re you doing?” He asks Sam. 

“Ordering - I’m making a, uh, card entry for our, uh, copies from the Thule’s red ledger for our collection.” He says softly, almost embarrassed by what he is doing. 

“From your case? I want to hear what happened!” You close the grimoire, expectantly. Before Sam can begin, Dean interrupts.

“So, uh what? Aaron’s a J.I., and...you’re a Man of Letters now? Is that it?” Aaron? You wonder who that is. Sam shrugs in response. Dean pours the scotch into the glasses, handing them out to each of you in turn. He takes a seat next to you and puts his feet up, contentedly, on the table, before raising the glass. You and Sam mimic the gesture, before all three take a drink. Sam goes back to writing, and Dean begins telling you about what happened with the rabbi, golem, Aaron, and a bunch of nazis.

Dean suggests sparring later, to make sure you’re still in fighting standard. As you make your way towards the sparring room, Dean gets a phone call. Dean gives another frustrated groan, you and Sam looking at him curiously, as he checks the name. He’s about to hang up when you insist he take it, as it could be important. He does and walks towards the library, you shaking your head at him. You’re kind of glad a phone call interrupted the spar, as you weren’t really feeling up to it. Your ribs still hurt… He walks back into the room.

“Who was it?”

“That was Jody. Apparently some people have been dropping dead in Sioux Falls and she wants our help investigating.”

“Alright, when are we leaving?” Sam asks, getting up from his work. 

“Nu’uh. You’re staying here.” Dean says.

“What?”

“You almost died back with the nazis. You’re staying here and resting up, make sure that poison didn’t do anything else. And Aaron is going to need someone here if something goes wrong.” Sam scoffs. 

“Fine.”

“Let’s go twinkle toes. You’re up.” He points at you. You look surprised, and give an apologetic glance to Sam. 

“Yeah, let me just grab my things. We leaving now?”

“I’m packed still, so whenever you’re ready.”

“Give me ten?” You head to your room down the hallways, passing Sam’s and Dean’s. The bunker was like a labyrinth and with everything looking alike, the first couple of days here had been a mess. You find your room, grab your duffel and stuff it with whatever clean clothes you had left, along with a suit, and head back. On your way out, Sam hands you an FBI badge with the name “Gillain Scully” on it. You smile at the reference and take it, thanking him.

About six hours later, a lot of rock music and carpool karaoke, you see the familiar buildings come into view as you head to the motel 6 on the crappier side of the city. It was the same motel you had all stayed in during Bobby’s funeral almost a year earlier.

“We’ll drop our stuff at the motel and then head to the sheriff’s station. That’s where Jody said to meet her.”

“I’m guessing she wants us in suit?”

“Yeah.” He pulls up to the motel and tells you to wait in the car while he books the rooms. When he comes back, he has one key.

“We sharing?” You ask, a little unnerved. 

“Yeah…” He looks away from you, hand on his neck, embarrassed. “It seems that there was a sewage issue and most of the rooms are closed ‘cause of the smell. There’s two beds though. This ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine.” You grabbed your things and follow Dean to room 9 on the first floor. There was a faint smell of rotten eggs, masked by Febreze. You could only imagine what the other rooms smelled like. 

“You want the bathroom first?” 

“Yeah, I won’t take long.” You were both very awkward and stiff around each other. You didn’t like it at all, but was unsure what to do to break the tension. You go and change into your suit and then wait for Dean while he changes. He takes a bit longer, having needed to shave. When he comes out, you get a whiff of his aftershave and take a once over. He was one hell of a specimen of man. He smoothed his jacket out and then looked up at you. 

“Something wrong?”

“What?” He’d caught you looking. “Yeah, um, your tie. It’s askew.” You walk over and straighten it out a bit, although it was just fine. It all felt very...domestic. “There. We should, uh, head over to Jody’s.” He agrees with you and drives the Impala to the sheriff’s office. You both head in and see Jody in her familiar sheriff’s uniform, her hair cut short. She gives you both a smile and comes in to hug you. There was no one else in the room, so you let her give you a signature mom hug. You squeeze her back, enjoying the motherly warmth from her hug. You find yourself missing your mother terribly. 

“You told us on the phone you had a few people come up dead? What was so weird about it?” Dean asks, and Jody releases you. 

“How about the fact that the two were killed the same way and from a locked room?” Jody responds, her tone became that of a strict mother. 

“Who were the vics?” You ask.

“A defense attorney, Caleb Waters, and a gas station clerk, Clem Parker.”

“Doesn’t seem like they have anything in common.” You point out.

“As far as I know, they don’t. But they died the same way, hung in a locked apartment, no rope to be found.”

“So we’re thinking ghost?” Dean says.

“Any signs that there might have been a ghost?” You ask. 

“The clocks were stopped at 3:12 AM, which the coroner said was most likely the time of death.” 

“Electrical interference. Really good chance of it being a ghost.” You say to Dean. 

“We should probably go check out the scene.”

“Caleb was the most recent. He died two days ago. My guys have his place taped off. He was in an apartment building near downtown. I’ll give you the address.” Jody grabs a pad of paper and scribbles the address down, handing it over to you. 

“We’ll let you know if we get a reading.” Jody nods to you and you both walk out of the office and head to the apartment. 

There’s an officer at the apartment when you get there. Dean flashes his FBI badge and tells him that Sheriff Mills sent them. He opens the apartment and lets you both in. It’s a pretty swanky place. There’s a bunch of art deco pieces, the kind that pretentious people typically have out to make themselves seem rich and sophisticated. The furniture is pretty modern, white couch with a glass table. There’s a large flat screen television mounted on the wall in the living room. 

“Pretty swanky place.” You say as Dean whistles. 

“Dude must have been loaded.”

“Well off at least; I’d bet a hundred that some of this artwork are knock-offs.” 

“You gonna make with the magic stuff?” You scoff at him.

“Yes. You gonna make with the EMF stuff?” You ask him, using air quotations around EMF stuff. You take a seat on the couch, which is very uncomfortable and hard, while Dean goes around the place with the EMF detector. You get zilch in the area. No weird voodoo or magic killed this guy. 

“Nothing.” You call out. You hear the squealing of the EMF reader and walk over to Dean, who is in the bedroom. There is a lamp knocked off of the table, shattered on the floor with an evidence ID tag on it. The blanket looks to have been pulled off the bed and dragged towards the foot of the bed. Dean is standing over it. 

“Looks like our ghost was here.” He says. There is an evidence tag with the blanket too.

“This is probably where the vic died.” You crouch down, surveying the area. “It looks like he was dragged out of bed, knocking the lamp over. Then he gripped onto the blanket to try and pull himself up, but it was dragged with him. Ghost must have pulled him along before hanging him on the fan?” You say, looking towards the ceiling where the fan was; it was partially pulled out of the hole. 

“Good eye. Now what does this guy have to do with some redneck at a gas station?”

“Maybe Caleb defended him for a crime?”

“So we just need his files?” Dean heads to the other room, looking for a home office. There are several bookshelves filled with various legal books and leather bound books that were probably for show. He starts looking through the desk and papers. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask him, confused. 

“Looking for case files.” He says, still going through the drawers. There are definitely several papers among them, but there’s more office supplies than anything else. You laugh. 

“You’re not looking in the right place.”

“Alright Einstein, then where? It’s gotta be in here.”

“Oh it is. But that’s not how people keep their files anymore.” You go to sit in the large, black office chair, almost sinking into it. This was definitely not for show. It was possibly the most comfortable chair you had ever sat in. You take a moment to relish it before starting up his computer. The home screen appears, prompting for a password. 

“You think it’s in the computer?” 

“It has to be. Fancy lawyer like this probably puts all of his files on a hard drive.”

“Alright, well how do we get in?” You shrug your shoulders. You type “password” and nothing happens. You look around the room and see his law degree for the University of North Dakota. You type in “fightinghawk,” and receive an incorrect password message. Then you type “lawmaster” and still nothing, although to be honest, you weren’t expecting that last one to work. 

“I’m stumped. I’m a magical witch, not a technological wizard. We could really use Sam right now.”

“Why? We’re good here, just you and I, aren’t we?” He said suddenly, getting uncharacteristically defensive.

“I mean, yeah, we’re good, but neither of us have any skills in hacking, unless you picked up a new skill suddenly?” He just stares at you for a while, and you raise your eyebrow expectantly. 

“Alright, let’s just take the damn thing for now. We’ll figure out the rest later. Grab the screen, I got the computer.” After disconnecting the monitor, he grabs the heavy box and you grab the screen, careful to keep your fingers on the back. No need to smudge!

“So I’m guessing back to the motel?”

“Yeah.”

“And then what? Call Sam?” You both start to walk towards the door.

“Damnit, no. I can figure it out just fine. I’ve watched Sammy do this a hundred times. How hard can it be?”

Famous last words… You’d been cooped up in the motel for hours now, transferring defensive spells to your pocket grimoire. It was already getting late in the day, close to dinner time and you were feeling hungry. 

“Dean, how much longer? I’m starting to get...peckish.” You choose your words carefully, as he’s already very frustrated, having been working on the computer for about two and a half hours, with no success. He kept alternating between his phone and the computer, so you assume he’s probably been using Google to figure out how to hack into the lawyer’s computer. 

“I’ve almost got it.”

“Do you want me to pick up something? I could get pizza and beer.”

“I’m going to get into the computer and then we can go eat.” He says, getting short with you. 

“Listen here Dean Winchester, just because you are getting frustrated does not mean you can take that tone with me. Now, there’s a pizza place a few blocks from here. I’m going to go pick up a pie and a case of beer. You can wait here!” You grab your purse and storm out, leaving a shocked Dean Winchester in your wake. You smile to yourself, satisfied and excited for pizza. You saw the restaurant just a few blocks down when you were driving back from downtown. It had to be a ten minute walk at most. 

You get an alert on your phone and it’s from Dean. _Sorry for snapping. I’ll get the computer fixed. Text me when you’re at the pizza place._ You smile at the message. Good. It may have taken him like ten minutes, but it seems he realized he was being a bit of an ass. I’m here. Pepperoni? You go to the front and order two medium pizzas, one cheese, one pepperoni, and a six pack of beer. As the cashier is ringing up the order, Dean’s text goes through and you say in all caps: YES! 

You play Tetris on your phone as you wait for the pizza, which is done pretty quickly, and text Dean when you’re on the way back. As you juggle the pizza and beer while opening the door, you could swear you hear Dean talking to someone. As you walk in, you see him putting his phone away and give you a triumphant smile. 

“What’d I say? Computer ready by the time you got back.”

“Oh did you get in? Nice. I got the pizza and beer.”

“What a woman!” He says, and you both go a little red for a second. You smile and take the compliment in silence, bringing the boxes to the table and placing it next to the monitor.

“So how’s Sam?” You ask casually, as you pull a slice out.

“He’s fine.” He answers. “Shit.”

“Hah! I knew it! Why didn’t you just admit that we needed Sam’s technological prowess?” He grabs a beer, popping the lid on the side of the table and aggressively drinks it, remaining silent. “Hey, it’s okay not to be good at everything. We all have our strengths.” You place your hand on his, trying to be comforting. You probably should have kept quiet, but it really was fun to bust Dean’s chops every once in a while. 

“Yeah. I know.” He looks away from you and grabs your hand back. He keeps holding on to it as he eats his pizza. You feel hot in the face. His hand is rough on your skin and completely envelops your smaller hand. _Safe_ , the feeling spreads from your hand, up your arm and throughout your body. There’s a tightening in your chest again. You both continue to eat your pizzas and drink your beers, silent and holding each other’s hands. It was…nice. 

“So, what was the password?”

“Turned out to be LadiesMan1964. With an 8 for the a and a 3 for the ie.”

“What a dork!” You both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. When you both had eaten your fill, Dean goes back to the computer, now being able to access the files.

“We’re looking for Clem Parker, so check near the P's.” You say as you start putting the few leftover slices into one box. 

“Thanks.” He replies. You stuff the medium sized box into the small sized mini fridge, having to do a bit of origami work with the sides of the box. You feel satisfied with your work when you hear the slam of Dean’s fist on the table, jumping slightly.

“What the hell?!” You say, whipping back at him. His lips are thin and his eyes are staring intensely at the screen. He looks up at you and his face softens before clicking things on the screen. 

“Nothing.”

“Well hold up, it’s obviously not nothing. You’re doing the lip thing.”

“The lip thing? What lip thing?” He asks, moving his head quickly, his face contorting in confusion. 

“When you’re angry, you tighten your lips so tight, you can barely see that they’re there.”

“The better question here is, why are you looking at my lips, huh?” 

“What? No reason. Man, look at the time? I’m gonna shower and head to sleep. We can canvas that gas station tomorrow. Awesome? Great. Night!” You head to the bathroom quickly. You were no stranger to Dean flirting with you. He used to flirt with you when you were both younger, but it was different now. When you were teens, it was more teasing than anything else. You’d seen him flirt with women before, when you would go out, especially when you were older and he’d take you with him to local pubs. But typically, he was straightforward and aggressive. Now, you have no idea if he was doing a callback to when he teased you or if he was being sincere. When you initiated, you felt in control, but with him starting it, you felt a little more cornered and insecure, thinking back to when you were young. 

You take a calming breath. If Dean is being sincere, he’ll try something soon, you’re sure of it. You wash your mouth thoroughly, put on deodorant, and brush out your hair. Feeling a little silly, you mess up your hair again. You open the door of the bathroom and step out, expecting Dean to be standing and staring at you. But instead, you see that he’s already on the bed...snoring. 

“Ya idjit.” You sigh, before heading to your bed. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eye of the Tiger blares, waking you up from your very pleasant dream. You look over at Dean’s bed and see his phone lighting up.

“Dean. Dean! DEAN!” You get progressively louder until he finally starts awake. “Phone!” He lazily grabs at it and mumbles “‘ello?” 

He sits up on the side of the bed, his feet on the floor. You now notice that he is still wearing his suit pants and his button down shirt. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Shit, really? Yeah yeah, we’ll be there. Give us twenty minutes. Y/n, case, we gotta go.” 

“You look like you could use a shower. I’m good. I’ll get changed while you get ready.” He nods at you and grabs some clothes on his way to the bathroom. “Oh, and Dean?”

“Yeah?” 

“When you come out of the bathroom, heads up, k? I’m changing out here.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Course.”

After about ten minutes, you stop by a McDonalds and grab a coffee and a bagel sandwich before heading to you have no clue where.

“Dean, what’s going on?” You take a drink of your coffee.

“Jody called. She said there was another death last night. That makes three in one week.”

“Who was the vic?”

“Woman, named Natasha. Jody said she’d give us more information when she got there.”

“Okay. Hopefully she can be the link?”

“We’ll see.” You both park outside a large two story house. There is an older couple outside the house, talking to the police. One man was talking to the police, holding his husband, whose face was buried in his hand. Sheriff Mills is talking to another officer as they pull a body out, which is under a sheet. You stop the coroner, showing your badge, and you and Dean look at the body. She was young, probably about your age, with long curly blonde hair, a small mole on her chin. There was bruising around her neck and a small scar on her chest, over her breast. It looks like a knife cut. You shiver and cover her up again. You and Dean continue walking over the Jody and the officer next to her.

“Agent Mulder.” Dean says and you smile internally. Sam Winchester...

“And Agent Scully.” You flash your badge. You can’t believe Sam set you both up for this. When you get your hands on that rotten...

“You mean like-” The officer begins.

“No.” You say, cutting him off. “What happened here?” You ask, taking lead. Dean just stands back and listens.

“Victim’s name is Natasha Richards. Her father, Nathan Richards, and her step-father, Percy Novak, said they found her this morning on the floor of her bedroom. Thirty-two years old, she sweeps up hair and cleans equipment at a hair salon about fifteen minutes from here. Coroners say that the marks on her neck look like she was hung, but there was no forced entry and nothing in the room that seems to have been used. They’re ruling it a suicide so far.”

“Just like the others?”

“Seems like it. We’re getting a statement from the parents now if you want to talk to them.”

“Dean, I’ll go talk to the victim’s parents and you can look over the scene?”

“Sounds good.” You both separate and you walk ever to Mr. Richards and Mr. Novak. The police officer who is there is writing on a notepad and when she sees you, she closes it and walks away.

“Mr. Richards and Mr. Novak, my name is Gillian Scully with the FBI. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter.”

“Um, sure. But why are the FBI here?” One of the men asks. You’re not sure who is who.

“There’s been multiple deaths similar to your daughter’s and the FBI likes to get involved once in a while. May I ask you what you saw?”

“My husband was downstairs, making breakfast. He had noticed Natasha’s bike was still in the front yard. She had work an hour earlier, so I went to check on her. She’s had some issues in the past you see. And when I went upstairs, there she was. It was like she’d been dropped on the floor, like a rag doll. Her eyes were open and she looked so scared. It was awful.”

“I am so sorry for your loss. What do you mean she had issues?”  
“She was depressed. She was on several medications for insomnia, depression, anxiety. She had PTSD. There was an incident about fourteen years ago. I wasn’t with Nathan yet. We’ve been together for about ten years now.” Mr. Novak continues. He is shorter than Mr. Richards, his hair is deep gray, almost matching his eyes. Mr. Richards, now that you think about it, looks a lot like his daughter. Same face structure, elongated and sharp curves. He uncovers his face and looks at you through his wide brimmed glasses.

“Natasha was raped. We pressed charges, but she refused to talk to the police or take the stand, and she wouldn’t sit for the tests either, so the charges were dropped. She was never the same after that, and with the divorce just a year earlier...She was in and out of therapy, but she wasn’t suicidal. I know that!” Mr. Richards informs. You place your hand on his shoulder.

“I understand. Mr. Richards, I only have a couple more questions.” He nods, holding his husband’s hand tightly. “Do you know a Clem Parker or Caleb Waters?” He nods his head more rigorously. 

“Yes. The boy who raped my daughter, he was put in jail two years later for another rape. Waters was his attorney.” You write that down. Finally, there’s a connection. Maybe Clem was the rapist? You never asked when he was found dead.

“Were there any cold spots? Anything strange about the room when you found her?”

“Actually, there...there were a couple things. Her room was a mess, like she was in a struggle. But she’s on the second floor and we shuttered her windows. They were still locked.”

“Anything else?”

“She has a clock. It runs on batteries, and I checked them, they still worked, but the clock wouldn’t change past 3:12. And the entire room was cold, freezing cold, but we had the heater on this morning.”

“One last question, if you both don’t mind, who-” Dean walks up behind you and grabs you lightly on the arm.

“Hey, can I talk to you real quick?”

“Sure. Mr. Richards, Mr. Novak, thank you. I am so sorry for your loss, but we will get to the bottom of this.” You close the notepad and walk with Dean towards the Impala.

“So, same thing as the others Dean. The clock was stopped at 3:12 too. And we’ve got a link. Caleb Waters was the attorney for the guy who raped our victim, Natasha. Not sure how Clem factors into it, but I’m sure there’s something.” You tell him.

“Yeah, about that. I found Natasha’s journal in her bedroom. Did her parents tell you that it was laying out on the bed with her body?”

“No. Why, what did it say?”

“It named her rapist. It was an old diary, probably from when she was in high school. Y/N, it named Chris Prince.”

“What?” Your brain went fuzzy and your heart seemed to stop.

“And last night, I didn’t want to tell you, because I know how it would affect you. But there was a file for Prince on Water’s computer.”

“No. No.” You feel stiff and your fingers become number. Dean wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize you had been squeezing your hands so tight, you had stopped the circulation. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m right here. He’s not going to hurt you. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He leads you into the Impala and memories start flooding into your head. Chris was the first time you had ever used your powers, right before he had tried to rape you.

_You were wearing a long, floral blue dress and sitting in the leather seat of an old Ford Pickup. It was spring break and you were finally on your first date and with none other than Christopher Prince, the hottest boy in school. Bright blue eyes and auburn brown hair, cut short. His face was square and masculine. He was tall, so very tall, with broad shoulders and cut muscles. He wasn’t too big, just right._

_You tended to hang out with the weird kids, and with your dad being the town drunk, you thought you were going to be single for the rest of your life. But then Chris Prince asked you out to the movies during Spring Break and you hadn’t felt that elated since you hung out with Astrid and her coven for the first time._

_“How about some food?”_

_“Yeah, I can eat.” You smile at him as he heads towards the diner. You were supposed to be with Astrid tonight. She was going to teach you some new spells involving the elements and how to invoke things like the wind. You backed out when Chris had asked you out, but had told your dad you were still going to Astrid’s anyways. Astrid understood how strict your dad was and said she would cover for you if he called her house later than night. Your dad didn't get what it was like to be a teenage girl. If it were up to him, you’d both be out killing werewolves or something. You didn’t mind Hunting, but there was more to it. You wanted to be a normal kid once in a while._

_Chris parks the pickup in the diner parking lot. You look around. He had chosen the spot under the broken street lamp so it was pretty dark. He looks over at you, smiles, and leans in. You don’t even have a second to think, before his finger is on your chin and lifting your face towards his. You don’t hate it, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. He starts kissing you, his lips large and moist. It’s just pop kissing, but after the third, he becomes more forceful. His arms move to your back and his tongue is pushing your lips apart. You feel like your panicking and you try to tell him to wait, but his arms tighten, holding you there. One hand moves lower to grip towards your rear and the other starts to grip the back of your neck tightly. He moves away from your lips and starts kissing your neck._

_“Chris stop. You’re going too fast.”_

_“Don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you.”_

_“Chris, please!” You’re voice gets louder and you free your hands enough to start pushing._

_“Damnit, just calm down.”_

_“I said wait!” You scream and without warning, he is pushed off you and his head bangs against the window of his car. He’s dazed and you just stare at your hands, which are out in front of you. Suddenly, you feel a wave of fatigue over your body. Did I do that? You think to yourself. Astrid had once told you that telekinesis was a magical gift that more mature witches could do, but you had only been practicing for a few months. That felt...good. Being able to push him off felt really good, and you wondered how much more you could do with more training._

_“What the fuck was that?” Chris asks, angrily, rubbing the back of his head._

_“Guess I don’t know my own strength?” You laugh awkwardly. He starts to move towards you again, a predatory smile on his face._

_“Let’s see you use that strength elsewhere.” Now that the initial panic wore off, you started to think more like a Hunter rather than prey and you smile at him back._

_“Hold up there big boy. My turn.” You move into him and start kissing him, moving your hand through his hair and then down his chest flirtatiously. You giggle. He puts his hands on your waist and you grab them quickly, not wanting him touching you, and place them over his head. You detach from him with a soft pop.  
“I need to pee.” You say and he groans. _

_“Nu’uh. No way. Not after that.” He starts to lean up to grab you again. You could not have him take charge. He was a large guy, football player and wrestler. You were a good fighter, but if he got a good grab on you, it was over._

_“Come on Chris. If we’re going to keep going, do you really want me to have a full bladder. Think about it.” You laugh and his hand goes through his hair as he sighs._

_“Alright, but give me a minute okay.” He looks down at himself and you see a bulge in his jeans. You laugh flirtatiously again._

_“I won’t be too long.” You kiss him swiftly on the lips and head into the diner. She head straight for the restroom, but instead of going in, you go straight to the payphone, putting in the change. You were about to call home, when you remembered, you had told dad that you had told him you were at Astrid’s. Calling him now would mean grounding for life, and you didn’t trust him not to go overboard. You punch in Dean’s number and he picks up on the fourth ring._

_“Dean, who’s asking?”_

_“Dean, it’s me.” You say, your voice shaking and the Hunter persona melting away when you hear his voice. His beautiful voice._

_“Y/n? What’s wrong?” His voice fills with worry and you practically melt._

_“Dean, I need your help. I’m on a date and he… I need you to pick me up, now.”_

_“Yeah, where are you?” You give him the address. “I will be there in thirty. And hour tops. Distract him and do not leave that restaurant, alright?”_

_“Yeah. Promise.” You hang up and as you do, you see Chris walk in. He heads right towards you and grabs your arm._

_“Come on, let’s get outta here. I got a nice place for us to go.”_

_“Hold up you!” You grab the arm that is holding you, carefully, letting your fingers gently brush his arm. “You promised me some food. I’m not just a cheap date here.” You wink at him._

_“You are quite the tease, you know that?”_

_“But so worth it. They said waiting is the best foreplay.” You whisper in his ear the last part in his ear and you can feel his grin. You stomach twists, sickened. You just had to distract him for one hour. That’ll be easy. Pick something that takes a while to eat, get a dessert, you’ll be set. Just have to eat slow. Really really slow._

_Thirty minutes in, you can tell that Chris is getting frustrated and impatient, as you take another slow bite of your french fry. Every bite you made, you made it intentionally, sometimes catching his eye and making it seem flirtatious. If he feels like you’re stalling or not interested, he’ll become more aggressive. But the longer he thinks you’re into it, the more he thinks you’ll do, the easier it’d be to control. You learned that from a friend of your dad’s, Laura, who had taken you Hunting for a week a year ago. She said one of the best tools for a female hunter was her feminine wiles. You could get any information you wanted, any tools you wanted, and make any trap you wanted, with a well placed hand and a smile at the right angle. She said sex was the most powerful tool on the planet. You never thought you would have to use it._

_“Hey, are you done yet?”_

_“Wanna split a sundae?”_

_“A sundae? My god, come on.”_

_“Please? Just one sundae and then we can head out?” You put your hand on his. “Or maybe a banana split?” You wink at him. He smiles at you._

_“Alright, fine. I’ll go put in the order and get you a refill while I’m at it. Ok?”_

_“Sounds perfect.” He smiles at you and walks away. You look out the window, searching for any sign of Dean. He’s probably be driving his dad’s Impala. He loved that car. If not, he could be using any kind of junk car he could get his hands on. You hope he gets here soon. You don’t know how much longer you can use Laura’s tactics. There was always the magic. A little voice calls in your head. That was effective before. Laura said that sex was the most powerful tool on the planet, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was magic instead. Astrid said magic could do anything. You started learning witchcraft to rebel against your dad, but what if you could actually harness it. What if you could become more powerful? The thought both intrigued you and terrified you._

_“Here you go. Another glass of root beer and a sundae is coming up.” He hands you the glass and you take a drink. It’s really sweet, just the way you like it._

_“Thank you Chris. Tonight has been amazing.”_

_“And it’s going to get better.” He smiles back at you. You both polish of the sundae and Dean still isn’t around. It’s coming on to an hour now and he still isn’t there. There’s no way you can keep stalling, especially now that Chris is paying the check. Your stomach hurts a bit from all of the food and your head is starting to hurt as well._

_“You ready to go?” You look up at him, and you feel your brain go a little fuzzy._

_“What? What’s going on?” You slur out. Why are you here? You look around the restaurant. You feel like you should be waiting for something, but you can’t remember what._

_“You ate too much. Come on. I’ll take you home.” He starts to grab you from under the armpit, out of the booth. He is half dragging you to the parking lot. You don’t remember the truck being so far away as you continue to go through the poorly lit parking lot. You start to lose control of your legs as Chris continues to drag you through the lot. Wait, was it Chris who was carrying you? What was his name again?_

_“I don’t understand what’s going on?”_

_“Relax Y/n. I’m gonna make everything better.” The man smiles at you. You don’t feel right. You try to push him off, looking for the same power you had felt earlier in the night. It was a memory you were hanging onto. That force of energy you had earlier that made you feel strong and in control. But it doesn’t come when you call. A door opens and he starts to push you in the car._

_“No, no, no.” You start to plead as he tells you it’s going to be ok._

_“Get your damn hands off of her!” You hear a deep, masculine voice say. The man who was trying to force you into the car suddenly lets go of you and you collapse to the floor. You try to push yourself up, but you don’t have control of your arms and legs anymore. You hear grunting of struggling as you try and muster up the energy and strength to crawl away._

_“Y/n? Are you okay? Jesus!” You feel the world spin around you as you are picked up. You look up and see a familiar face. You don’t know why it’s familiar though. You try to touch his face. He looks like an angel. A very angry angel._

_“Dean?”_

_“I’m getting you out of here. You’re okay now. I’m taking you home.” Panic hits you again._

_“No. Not home.”_

_“What do you mean? Where am I supposed to take you?”_

_“Dad doesn’t know. Can’t go home.” You struggle to say. He places you in a car and buckles you in._

_“Alright, I won’t take you to Bobby’s. I’ll figure something out.”_

_“Thank you.” And you fall asleep, unable to keep your eyes up any longer._

_When you come to, your head is pounding. You’re in a strange room, on a bed, and you don’t recognize your surroundings. There’s no one around you. You start to panic and tears stream down your eyes. You hear a flush from the bathroom and you hear footsteps heading towards the door. You don’t remember why you’re here. All you remember was Chris. And as that memory hits you a new wave of panic hits. You try to get out of bed, but you’re whole body is tense and in pain, like you are still trying to regain control. As you run to the door, you hear a voice behind you._

_“Woah, woah! Calm down there!” A familiar voice! You whip around._

_“Dean? Oh my god, Dean! What’s going on? What’s going on!?” You start screaming. He shushes you, his arm out to you, trying not to startle you. You’re still in flight mode._

_“You’re okay. He didn’t touch you. I got you out of there.”_

_“Chris?”_

_“He ain’t going to come near you again. I promise you that. Next time you see him, he’s probably going to be in a full body cast.”_

_“Good.”_

_“Breathe Y/n. Come on baby. Deep breath in and deep breath out.” You do as he says, taking a seat at the table._

_“Where are we?” You ask._

_“Motel near your place. You told me not to take you home and this was the only place I knew about. Dad took us here last year.” You nod at him, looking down at your hands._

_“What the hell happened back there?” Dean interrupts your thoughts._

_“First date gone horribly wrong. I should’ve known the star football player was a creep. You want to know what’s the worse Dean?” You look up at him. “That was my first date and my first kiss. It wasn’t even nice. It was awful. And scary. I’d rather go up against a nest of vamps then go through that again.” You push back the tears. You feel his hand touch your shoulder and a memory flashes back of Chris, touching you everywhere, trying to force himself on you. You flinch at his hand, and regret it immediately._

_“Damn him!”_

_“I’m sorry Dean! I’m sorry.”_

_“Wait here. Don’t go anywhere!” He barks at you, leaving. You stare at the door where he had left. Rage fills you as panic drains. How stupid! You put yourself in the stupidest situation. You’re a Hunter, damnit, and you couldn’t even stop a teen boy. You swore to yourself then that you would learn magic. You would become the best, and you would never, never, end up in that situation again. You had used magic before. Now that you were safe, you knew what that was. You won’t tell Astrid about it just yet, but you can practice. You can get better. You will never be a victim again!_

_After about ten minutes, Dean comes back in with a brown box in hand. You go to apologize again, but he puts his hand up to stop you._

_“Don’t you dare apologize. That guy is scum and I get it. Here. I got you this.” You open the box. It’s your favorite dessert, bought from the local grocery story according to the label on the box. You look up at him. “I remember that you said you could never feel bad when you ate that.”_

_“Yeah, I did. Mom used to make it when I was little.” You tell him, a tear dropping down your face. He remembered._

_“I’m sorry I took so long. I misjudged the distance.”_

_“It’s okay.” You stare inside the box, not eating it yet. Dean sits next to you and his presence is comforting, filling you with warmth. You’d always had a crush on Dean, since you were a little girl. But it had been almost a year since you’d last seen him. He was so much more mature now, his face stronger than before._

_“Are you going to eat that or just stare?” He chuckles._

_“Stare.” You put the box down and look at him. “Thank you.” You say again. He places his hand over yours, enveloping them. His touch is more gentle, more careful, than Chris’s. Every movement Dean makes is soft, and his eyes are scanning yours, waiting. Your heartbeat is fast, but not with panic. Anticipation is all you feel. What would his next move be?_

_“Tell me if you want me stop.”_

_“Don’t. Please.” He places his other hand on your cheek, caressing it. He leans in, his lips pressed softly on yours. Gentle, soft, and perfectly shaped to yours. You kiss him back and the tears flow freely. He stops and looks at you, with a look you had never seen him wear before._

_“There. We’ll say that that was your first kiss. Okay?”_

_“Okay.”_

 

You sit on the bed, staring at the wall, your fingers twisting as you recite a blessing under your breath, the memory of the past still strong in your mind.

“I am protected by her light, oh Gracious Goddess, day and night.” As you say it, you float a few inches off the mattress. You wouldn’t be a victim again. Never again.


	13. Stone Cold Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry I am late! I run a Dungeons and Dragons group and our session ran long last night after work and when I got home, I barely made it to my shower before passing out on my bed. And I was going to update this morning, but I was running late for work. But trust me, the end of the chapter is worth it. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger Warnings: We are still dealing with Chris, so there is going be some talk about rape. There is also some sequences of violence and being hung and choked. I don't use a lot of details, barely any, but I know how some people can get upset, so please be careful if you read! The intention is not to overwhelm or be insensitive.

You’re chanting continuously, staring at the wall, envisioning a warm, yellow light encircling you and your space, protecting you, pushing out the toxins and the negativity. The door opens to the motel room, and you just stay focus, continuing with your chant, over and over again, focused on your spot on the wall. 

“What the…?” You hear Dean’s voice, full of wonder, not fear or worry. You finally take your focus off of the space on the wall and realize what Dean was staring at. As you were chanting and creating this vision, you hadn’t realized that it had become real. You were floating a couple inches above the bed, surrounded in an egg-shaped bright yellow light. You stop chanting and slowly lower back down onto the bed, the light dissipating around you. 

“How….how did you?”

“That was the first time I’d ever done that.” You whispered. This was something to explore later. If you could levitate now… the possibilities. 

“What was that you were chanting? I’ve never heard you use english for a spell before.”

“A mantra I learned senior year. A protection spell. It always made me feel safe.” You noticed now that Dean has a brown box in his hand. “Is that...?”

“You’re favorite.” He says, smiling. Your heart fills. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly. You both just stare at each other, silent, as you remember that oh so familiar night, after Dean had brought the dessert. 

“We gonna talk about it?” He asks suddenly. 

“About what?” You wonder if he is referring back to that night, when he had kissed you. You found yourself hoping again.

“About that asshat, Chris.”

“Two of the three victims were related to him, yeah. Which mean…”

“The ghost is probably related to him.”

“Then why kill Natasha. She was a victim. I could understand killing the lawyer, but the gas station worker and one of his victims. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We should read the case file. I’ll, uh, read the case file. You don’t have to…”

“No. I knew what he was and I never said anything. That means whatever he did, it was my fault.” 

“Damnit Y/n,” He chuckles, angrily with frustration, “you have got to stop blaming yourself for everything. Whatever that bastard did was not your fault.”

“Not directly, but I should’ve told the police. I should’ve...It doesn’t matter what I should have done. It happened.” You walked back over to the table and sit down at the computer with Dean. He hands you a fork and you both dig in to the box. You access the files for Chris.

He was being charged with multiple counts of rape, aggravated sexual battery, and abduction of three women. The prosecution had apparently tried to make four more counts stick, but those women would not testify. He had kidnapped the women, beat them, raped them, and took pictures of them. Then he would blackmail them with the pictures to keep him quiet. From what you gathered in the file, it was the suicide note of one Jessica Riggs that tipped the police off to what Chris had been doing. She had been found hung by a rope tied to her bedroom fan, which had been half tugged out of the wall. 

“Looks like we found our ghost.” Dean said. 

“And look here. One of the pieces of evidence from the prosecution had been the note.” You glance over it. “Says here that a gas station worker had seen him tugging her and did nothing. Looks like we found our connection to Clem.” 

“So, she kills the lawyer who tried to keep her rapist out of jail, the gas station worker who let her get raped, and a victim?” 

“Look at the names of the four women who refused to testify.” You click the file and read out the names: Amelia Bonds, Laura Garcia, Natasha Richards, Latisha Washington. 

“Holy shit, she’s going after the victims who refused to put him away.”

“We have to take this to Jody, get those girls protection. We don’t know who Jessica will be after next.” He nods and agrees, pulling his jacket back on. You both leave the motel, and Dean calls Jody, letting her know what is happening.

“You going to be okay?”

“Yeah. And I know the names, which means I can cast a protection charm on the girls. If Jody can get them gathered up, one hex bag each will keep the ghost away.”

“Nu’uh. Last time you used a protection spell, it nearly killed you.”

“From a physical attack. Warding off a ghost, easy peasy. And I threw all the ingredients into my briefcase. I can mix them up at the station.”

“Alright, fine. But that means it’ll only leave one person for Jessica to go after.”

“You’re suggesting to use Chris as bait just in case?”

“Could also let the ghost--”

“No. That’s not us Dean. We save people. No more death.” You say quickly, although there is a part of you that wants to agree with Dean. Let the asshole burn. The rest of the ride is continued in silence, until you reach the station. 

When you walk in, Dean goes over to talk to Jody, but you head off on your own to mix the ingredients. Dean had called Jody back and she had sent patrol cars to bring the other three girls to the station, as well as Chris. You were busy creating the three protection bags for the women. You pulled out the gold bags and start the process. After about ten minutes, you feel a large hand on your shoulder. It gives a comforting squeeze as you finish the incantation. 

“You know what I noticed?”

“What?”

“Pretty much all of your spells are Latin.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I just thought that spells could come in other languages too.”

“They can.”

“Then why?” He looks at you.

“Have you ever tried learning a new language? It gets really hard to memorize a whole bunch of languages. Latin is the easiest when you already know English and Spanish. I can do other spells. I’ve got a whole bunch in here that are Gaelish!” You argue. 

“There’s that fire. Nerd.” He’s smiling, big, teeth showing white. 

“You are an ass, you know that.”

“You like it.” He gives you a little push on the shoulder. You smile back at him, grabbing his forearm and squeezing it.

“I do.” You look away, sighing then, and grab the hex bags. “They’re done. Just need to keep these on their person and they’ll be safe.”

“Yeah.” Dean replies, a bit distracted. You head back out to the main hallway where Jody was typing on her computer. 

“Hey you. Dean filled me in. I had no clue.”

“Filled you in on what?” You felt panicked. No way he told her about Chris!

“The witchcraft. If I’d known…”

“Hey, no worries. Things happen for a reason, right?” You smile at her and she hugs you tightly. It is so motherly and warm. You miss your mother so badly. 

“So, the girls are going to be here. We told them a normal version of the story and said we were going to bring in a suspect as well to question, but we wanted to give them police protection. You can give them the hex bags then.” You hand them over to her. SHe stares at them for a second, the proof to Dean’s words, but her face doesn’t harden and she just smiles at you. It is strange for another Hunter to just be fine with you being a witch. Man, you really loved Jody. 

“And Chris?”

“He’s staying at his parents’ house. He’s on probation and house arrest, got out of jail a couple weeks ago, so we didn’t think there was any point bringing him to the station. But I told them what was going on, so you two can make your way there. I’ll give you the address.” You hand Jody the hex bags.

“A couple weeks ago? Around the time the mysterious deaths started happening?”

“Now that you say it, yes.”

“And now we know the trigger. We just need to double check that it’s her.”

“Okay, Well, there’s a start. You can talk to the girls when they’re here and get more information.”

“Actually, I think we’ll head out, grab some supplies, and head over to Mr. Prince’s house. Right Dean?” 

“Sure?” He says.

“Oh, okay. That works. I’m not sure how I’ll get them to hold onto it though.”

“Tell them it’s a panic button, or a tracker. Or slip it into their purses. Tell them to stay home and not to leave. Give them a detail to make sure. It just has to be in the same space as them, not on their person.” She nods at you and you say goodbye, before leading Dean out.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t want to talk to them. I don’t want to see his other victims. To see women like me.”

“I understand. So Jody told me where Jessica was buried. I figure, we go salt and burn the body first and then head to the bastard’s place.”

“It’s mid-afternoon.”

“Yeah, and we’re still in FBI garb. Shouldn’t be too difficult to get the body exhumed. We’ll burn the body and then head over, make sure the ghost stays gone.”

“Alright. Sounds like a plan then.”

And you both do just that. Dean was right. With you both walking into the cemetery in full police guard and badge, the groundskeeper points you in the direction, and leaves you both to the work. You and Dean both start digging. The groundskeeper had offered to get his tools to help, but you had both turned him down. You were relieved when he didn’t question it, but he was much older and probably didn’t care enough. 

After about an hour of digging, with you taking frequent breaks due to your bruised rib and Dean frequently checking in on your mental and physical state, you both finally reach the coffin. When you uncovered the lid, there was the body, almost completely decomposed. There’s a hitch in your throat. You had done this before, salt and burning a body, but this was too close. Way to damned close. 

“You good?” 

“Yeah. Let’s get this over with. I wanna shower and get grave dirt off of me.” He nods at you before taking out the salt and gasoline, pouring it over the body. 

“Rest in peace Jessica.” He lights a match and throws it in, letting the body burn. You both start reburying the coffin again, but Dean grabs the shovel.

“Rest. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“Y/n.” He says to you, warningly. You roll your eyes at him and sit on the ground and watch for a bit. You pout for a bit while he finishes up, patting the earth down. You glance back at the gravestone one more time as you both head back to the motel. 

You take turns in the shower and then sit down at the table eating cold pizza quietly. Once more, there was an awkwardness in the air between the both of you as you picked at your meal. You grab your beer and take a long swig from it. Why was it so difficult to talk all of a sudden? You look up at him to say something, anything, and as you open your mouth, he talks at the same time. 

“You go first.” He says, right as you do. You both laugh and the awkwardness fades a bit. 

“Thank you for having me come along. It’s good to be back here.”

“Nah, thank you for coming. Your hex bags are sure to do the trick just in case. And Jody says she’s got a police car on the prick. Tomorrow morning, we’ll be done here and headed back to the bunker.” He smiles at you, drinking his own beer. 

“Right, back to the bunker. And then the tablets?” You ask, halfheartedly. If he already wanted to leave and go back, then maybe you had read things wrong. Probably just harmless flirting, right?

“Pretty much.” 

“I’m pretty tired, what with the magic using and gravedigging.”

“I get it.” You smile at him and toss your beer in the trash before heading to the bed. “Hey Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

“Yeah Dean. Just tired.” You smile at him.

“Alright.” He answers back, you can tell he doesn’t believe you but he also does not push the subject.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_You dreamed you were in court, on the witness stand, as a lawyer asks you to recount the events of your date with Chris. You open your mouth to tell the lawyer how awful Chris is and expose what he did, but your mouth suddenly disappears. You claw at your face, wondering where it is. The scene melts away, and you are in a colonial courthouse now. The same lawyer points at you, “witch!” You try to tell him no, but the crowd is screaming at you and their hands begin to grab at you. You try to fight back, digging your nails into the ground, trying to stop the villagers from executing you. They hold your hands down as a woman smiles at you, her face twisted and her grin wide._

_“Jessica?” You ask, and as you do, she puts a noose around your neck. You try to stop it from choking you as Jessica pulls the rope, lifting you off the ground, but the rope digs in. You kick your feet out, looking for something to hold you up, anything to keep you from dying._

And you wake to see that your dream was no dream. You are hanging above the floor in front of your bed and you can feel a tight rope around your neck. You try to rip the rope off, but there’s nothing there. You kick out, trying to reach the bed to hold yourself up. You try and scream out for Dean, but no words come out, just a squeak. You point at the chair and summon the magic within you and throw it against the wall.

“Wha- Y/n!” You hear Dean’s voice as he wakes up from the crash of the furniture. You hear his feet running towards you and feel his arms wrap around your legs and lift you up, and you can breathe.

“Dean, it’s Jessica!” You point in front of you and there she is, gray skin with white eyes, rope burns around her neck, stringy brown hair loose around her shoulders, staring at you. Her finger is pointing right at you, and her nose is flaring, her eyes filled with rage. Dean looks towards her.

“Die!” She screams and flickers, disappearing. 

“Dean… Grab the salt and quick.” The noose isn’t letting go, which means she’s not gone.

“But you-”

“Just fucking do it! Quickly.” You yell. He hesitates, before letting you go and searching for the salt gun. You are being hung again and you try not to struggle, conserving your breath, but the fear is gripping your stomach like claws. She flickers back into the room and just stares at you. Her rage fills you as you stare into her eyes and it scares you, the way the rage matched your own whenever you thought of Chris. You hear a gunshot and watch as she dissipates with a scream of rage. You fall to the ground, twisting your ankle. 

“Shit!” You gasp, the pain shooting up your leg. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, grabbing you and bringing you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. His hand stroking your hair as you gasp for air, trying not to cry. 

“Yeah. Fine now.” You choke out, your throat dry and in pain. 

“Why the hell was she here?”

“Water.” He props you against the bed and grabs a cup, filling it with sink water and bringing it to you. After you drink it, and take some time to relax, you look at Dean. He sits next to you and you lean into him. 

“It’s obvious Dean. Because I didn’t expose Chris either.”

“But you weren’t on the witness list. How would she know?”

“We talked about it near her grave. Like idiots!” When Dean had asked you if you were okay the first time, he referred to the news about Chris. He wanted to know if you would be okay if you had to see him again. You hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but it might have been enough that if Jessica’s ghost overheard you, she could easily have understood what it meant. “Not to mention, I’m the one who gave the hex bags to the other girls. Of course she’d want me out of the way.”

“You’re going to be okay. We’re gonna fix this.”

“How Dean? We burned her body and that didn’t work. We have no clue what could be tying her to the earth.”

“Bet you anything I know where we could find it though.” His eyes were steel.

“Ughhh. Christopher Prince’s house?”

“Unfortunately.” 

You take a deep breath. “Fine. Tomorrow morning. But there’s no point in the FBI garb. We’re going there as Hunters.” 

“You don’t have to do this. I can take care of it.”

“No way you’re doing this without me.” 

He smiles at you and stands up, putting a hand out to help you up. You let out a breath of pain as you put weight on your foot. It wasn’t too bad, probably just a bad sprain.

“What’s wrong?”

“A sprain. Just a sprain.” Dean helps you sit back down on the bed and Dean is just staring at you, hovering and waiting. 

“I’m really okay. I just fell on it wrong.” You smile at him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“She probably won’t come back.” You tell him. 

“Maybe.” He says gruffly, still hovering. 

You sigh. “But if she does, I don’t want to repeat the whole thing.”

“I’ll keep the gun next to the bed.”

“Could you…” You hesitate, feeling a little embarrassed about what you’re about to ask him, “Could you just hold me again, for a bit? I’m a little too on edge to sleep.”

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” He places the gun next to the bed and sits next to you, laying back on the bed. You rest your head against his chest and listen to his heart beat. His heart is thumping quickly, matching your own, which is racing. His arms wrapped around you again, forming a protective layer. You felt much more at peace than before. But soon your heart beat slows down and so does his, and it lulls you to sleep. 

When you open your eyes, it’s about 10 in the morning. You are still lying in Dean’s arms and his head is resting against the headboard. His arms are stiff around you. You try and stretch out, your body sore from remaining in such an uncomfortable position. 

“Hey Dean, wake up. We’ve got work to do.” He starts to stir at your words and he starts slightly when he realizes you’re in his arms still.

“Sorry. I was gonna go back to my bed, but I guess I fell asleep.” He lets go of your quickly. 

“It’s fine. How do you feel?”

“Stiff.” He starts stretching. 

“Same. We should probably head out. Early bird and all that crap.”

“Yeah, probably.” You both get ready for the day. You both donned your Hunting uniforms: pair of blue jeans, a signature plaid shirt, and work boots. 

“Are you going to be okay to do this next part?” Dean asks you, as he drives towards the address Jody had given you. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You start whispering your mantra under your breath. 

The house is a two story colonial style home, similar to your childhood home. It’s a deep burgundy and you wouldn’t know that it housed a serial rapist when you looked at it. You and Dean had made sure to stock up on supplies. You had plenty of salt and iron in the trunk. And you knew it would be easy to convince Chris that he was in trouble. Having a witch around made it easy to prove that the supernatural existed. 

You had your shotgun in the trunk and you were planning on bringing it into the house with you, but Dean talked you down. As much as he wanted to see the bastard piss himself, he said you were right before and that it was important to put the case first. Dean knocks on the door and you both wait. The door eventually opens and there he is. Christopher Prince. He doesn’t look nearly as handsome as he had in the past.

His hair was sullen and greasy. It was pulled back into a ponytail on his head. His face had sunken in. He was still fairly muscular and fit, probably from working out in jail, but he was aged. Despite that though, he smiled.

“Well look who it is! Y/N Singer and her Knight in shining fucking armor. I haven’t seen you in what, sixteen years?”

“Fifteen, actually.” You almost start shaking, angry as hell, pissed beyond belief. _This bastard tried to...and he...to all those women...standing there smiling...want to smack that smug look...fuck him!_

“You gonna let us in?”

“And why should I?”

“Because Sheriff Mills sent us.” He scoffs, standing aside to allow you both in. 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this blast to the past.”

Dean points at him. “Listen here, you shut your damn mouth alright. Or I’ll give you a blast to the past.”

“Yes sir!” He puts his hands up in the air jokingly. You spot the house arrest anklet. The fucker knows that neither you nor Dean can actually hurt him, or else the police might be alerted. He’s trying to provoke you both. You’re in the foyer of the house and he closes the door behind you both. You turn to face him, hands crossed over your chest. 

“Mr. Prince-”

“Oh, _Mister_ huh.” He smiles smugly. 

“Mr. Prince,” you continue, as if you hadn’t been interrupted, “do you believe in ghosts?”

“Is this a joke?” He looks to you and then at Dean. “Oh shit, you guys are serious.” He starts laughing hysterically. Dean’s fists are balled up and his jaw tightens. He throws you a look. You nod at him and, hand out, you lift him up into the air and slam him into the wall next to the door, hard enough to stun, but not enough to really do any harm.

“Holy shit! What the fuck was that?” You drop him to the ground, and he falls flat on his butt. 

“I’m a witch. He’s a Hunter. And there’s a ghost trying to kill you.” Chris just stares at you, dazed on the floor, his legs sprawled out underneath him. “Does the name Jessica Riggs ring a bell?”

“Oh fuck off. I ain’t saying shit. My lawyer said they can’t pin her suicide on me. I didn’t kill her.”

“Oh shut up. Your lawyer is dead, killed by Jessica’s ghost, who might be after you tonight.”

“Might?” 

“We took care of her body, but we don’t think that was enough to stop her.”

“Took care…?”

You begin losing your patience for him. “Doesn’t matter. Either way, she’s going to be coming after you tonight.”

He leans back against the wall, crossing his legs, and smiling at you. “Again, why me and why tonight?” 

“Because we’ve already helped any other possible victims. I saw her last night, so she’s probably coming for you next.”

“You saw her? Oh shit, she tried to get you first, didn’t she? Oh man, that is great. Was it like a catfight or did you-”

“Just shut up, alright. Shut up. You just sit there and do nothing and we’ll take care of everything. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’re here to save your goddamn useless life. You’re welcome.” Before Chris can say anything, you walk back out of the house to grab the salt from the trunk of the Impala. You had both decided on salting everything except for one door leading to the living room. 

“You did good in there. Hell of a lot better than me.”

“Yeah? Thanks. It helps, having you there. That, and I’m not the same person I was fifteen years ago.”

“That’s for hell sure. Now you’ve got that juice.” 

You smile at him. “Yeah, juice.” And continue to gather the salt, shotgun, and the salt bullets. Dean grabs the pistol instead as well as the iron rod. 

“Let’s get to work baby.” He says as he closes the trunk of the car. 

And you both start salting the windows and the doors of the living room, to keep Chris safe in the space. Chris had tried to make a grab at you as you walked past him, but Dean had grabbed him before he could touch you. 

“Touch her and I’ll break your fingers one by one.” Chris smiles at the threat, but you can tell he is nervous behind those eyes.

“I’ll be fine Dean.” You say to him, flicking your hand and causing a door to close, and then flicking it open again. Chris stares at the door and then back at you. “I’ve been practicing.” You tell him, before walking away to finish salting. Chris is still staring at the door and there’s a ball of satisfaction in your chest as you continue. 

“That should keep you safe if she shows up. But now, we need to find what she’s attached to.” You say to Chris, who is sitting on the couch, lazily. 

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re going to tell me where you hid the rest of your trophies.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He leans back into the cushion, putting his hands behind his head. 

“Listen here asshat-”

“Dean, this is mine.” You say softly. He throws his hands in the air and steps back, letting you continue. 

“Chris, we’re not stupid. Jessica’s spirit is attached to something, and a ghost is typically attached to something they care deeply about or something that represents their violent death. Considering what she wants, I’d put my bet that it’s something to do with how she died.” You pause to look at him, but he gave no indication that he knew what you were referring to. “This would go by so much faster if you just tell us what you took from her. Otherwise, she’s just going to show up here and hang you until you suffocate to death.” 

“Let’s say I believe you, that I believed that ghosts were real and Jessica was coming back to get me, why in the hell would I give you anything that could jeopardize my parole?”

“Because it’s your life!” You yell at him. 

“This is probably just some elaborate scheme, to get me thrown back in jail. I bet you slipped me something right? To make me hallucinate that you had magic. Or maybe you used strings and stuff, like a magician. Some crap like that.”

“Are you kidding me? Your life is in danger. What aren’t you understanding?”

“My life is just fine. You’re just a little bitch who is trying to get back at me for trying to show you a little affection.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please, you were practically asking for it that night. But you decided to be the bitch in the situation. You’re lucky I didn’t press charges on your and your oaf of a boyfriend.” 

“You tried to rape me!”

“You were asking for it, you little slut.” You hear Dean’s feet pounding as he storms towards, that last sentence probably getting to him. All you do is smile at Chris though and pull your arm back. You let it loose, one good swing, as your fist connects to his face, aiming for his jaw. You hear a crack and he falls to the ground. You shake your hand, your knuckles stinging from the impact. 

“Holy shit.” Dean says.

“That felt so damn good.” You look at him and smile.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” You blush a little at Dean’s words. You hear a groan of pain from Chris, who is holding his jaw painfully. You dig into your pouch and pull out your ingredients for a sleeping spell. 

“ _Somnum_.” You say, putting the stone in Chris’s hand.

“What the-” And he slumps on the floor. 

“That’ll keep him out for a few hours. He isn’t telling us anything. I say we wait outside his house until the ghost shows up. When she does, I’m sure it’ll scare Chris into telling us where he hid whatever she’s attached to.”

“Sounds good to me.” Dean gives a look of disgust at Chris, like he’s staring at a pile of trash, before walking back to the Impala, you following him. 

You both take turns the rest of the afternoon and evening waiting outside Chris’s house in the Impala. At one point, Dean calls Jody and asks if there was anything that was introduced in the trial that had belonged to Jessica. According to Jody, the only thing that could probably be the object would be her suicide note. As a precaution, Dean asks Jody to burn it.

Dean had joked around that you could both go home and relax now, but you tell him that there was no way it was going to be that simple. You tell Dean that you both have to stay and watch. You had to see this through to the end. Like Jessica, you had your own unfinished business with Christopher Prince. 

Dean shook you awake, gently. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep. You look at the car’s radio and see that the time is 2:56, and judging by the darkness, it was AM. 

“How long have I been out?”

“A few hours. You looked so cute, didn’t want to wake you.” He smirks at you. 

“Shut up. I’ve got a shotgun and a knife strapped to my side. Nothing cute about it.” You snap back playfully. 

“Point you.” He seems to take a moment to consider this. “Hot. The word would be hot.” 

“We’ve got work to do, if you’re done.” You say, secretly happy, as you open the door of the Impala. You switch the safety off of the shotgun and check that the chamber is loaded with the salt bullets. You walk up to the front door, checking the door knob to see if it was still unlocked. 

“Little bastard woke up and locked the door.”

“Like that’s stopped us before. You want to do the honors, or shall I?”

“I think telekinesis should work just fine.” You kneel down and stare at the lock, concentrating. Moving large objects was easy, but small work like this was more delicate. You concentrated on the lock in your mind’s eye and with your hand, mimed turning the lock, and you listen as the tumbler clicks. 

“Damn, that’s cool.”

“Thanks.” You smile, opening the door. “After you kind sir.” You say, bowing like an English butler. He chuckles at you and heads inside. You both make your way to the living room. The salt that you had both placed had been moved. You had specifically told Chris to not touch the salt line and to stay in that room. 

“Looks like he’s too stupid to follow instructions.” Dean says.   
“It’s almost 3:12. We need to find what room he’s in, salt the door and windows, and get him to tell us what object Jessica is attached to.”

“All in seven minutes. That should be easy.”

“Come on.” You both walk upstairs, figuring he probably went to his bedroom, and you start opening doors, Dean checking the other side of the hallway. You find a closet first, then a bathroom, and then a bedroom that you assume belongs to Chris’s parents. Good thing they weren’t home, you thought to yourself. 

“Found him!” Dean calls to you. You walk over to him and there Chris is, sleeping peacefully in his bed. 

“He really is a piece of shit isn’t he?” You say, loud enough for him to hear.

“No kidding. Hey asshat, get up!” Dean walks into the room as you start making a salt line at his door.

“The fuck are you guys doing in my house?” He asks, sleepily. 

“Saving your sorry ass. Why aren’t you downstairs in the salt ring like we told you?”

“Cause you’re both crazy. Come on, stop that! My parents will kill me if they see this mess.”

“Good.” You throw back at him, moving to the windows. But as you shake the salt out, the air becomes cold. “Dean!” 

“Yeah, I feel it.” You both look at the clock. 3:11 AM. You start shaking the salt out quickly in the one window sill. 3:12 AM. You see Jessica’s ghost materialize outside of Chris’s bedroom door. 

“Holy shit!” Chris is freaking out in his bed, covering himself with his bed sheet trying to get out of bed. He stands and points at it. “How are you doing that?”

“We aren’t doing anything. Tell us where you hid your damn trophies, now!”

“I ain’t saying shit.” 

“Suffer!” She screams out, the doors in the hallway flying open and a gust of wind blowing through. You cock your shotgun, pointing it at Jessica.

“He ain’t worth it Jessica. Just pass on. Let scum rot.”

“You die too!” She screams at you.   
“You ain’t crossing the line honey. So just get up and go.” You tell her. She just smiles back at you, her face ugly and twisted. The gust of wind goes through once more and you watch as the salt is blown away and she steps into the room, pointing at Chris first. He flips over as he’s dragged to the foot of the bed. 

“Help! Help!” Dean grabs at his arms and you shoot her. Her form breaks apart and Chris stops being dragged.

“She’ll be back. We can only hold her off for so long.” Dean tells Chris.

“Fine! Fine! They’re in the attic, under the floorboard in front of the window, in a Nike’s shoebox. It’s a fucking friendship bracelet. Stairs to the attic are in the hallway ceiling.”

“I’ll go get it Dean.” You start to move towards the door, when he yells at you to wait. You turn to him.

“No way, that ghost wants you too.”

“So you want me to stay here with him?” You raise an eyebrow and nod towards Chris. Dean is torn between the two. Someone had to stay and watch Chris and someone had to go and get the bracelet. You feel bad for his dilemma, but also frustrated. You weren’t some little girl who needed to be protected. You were a Hunter. And a damn good one if you had anything to say about it. You were taking point on this case, so you got to make the decision, not him. 

“Dean, I got this. I’ll go and get the shoebox and come right back. Watch him.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods at you and you leave the room, your shotgun at the ready. You look for the lines in the ceiling that indicated an attic, and when you see it, you use your telekinesis to pull the stairs down. You rush up the stairs quickly. You didn’t particularly like being hung the previous night, and you weren’t exactly looking forward to a repeat of the experience. The sooner you found the bracelet, the better. The attic was dark and the dust was thick, except for the footsteps leading to the window on the other side. Chris must have spent quite a lot of time with his trophies. The thought of it made your stomach lurch, bile and anger in your throat. 

You try to flick the light switch on, but nothing happens. And then you feel the temperature drop once more. She decided to go after you instead of Chris. You run towards the window, but you feel a hand grab your injured ankle, causing you to fall hard on the floor, knocking the wind out of you and hurting your bruised ribs. You stifle a cry of pain. You start being dragged back, but you have a firm grip on your shotgun. You feel the rope around your neck again and you’re pulled up. A force turns you and you stare at Jessica again. 

“I’m really sorry about this.” And you shoot her again, as she screams. You feel the phantom rope loosen around your neck. Your ankle throbs as you continue to the window, aggravated by the pull. You start pounding on the floor, looking for the loose floorboard that hid the box. You see Jessica materialize again. 

“Damn it, you are way more persistent than last night!” You shoot again, but miss her as she appears to the side, still smiling at you. “Oh, so now you want to play. I don’t have time for this!” You hit another floorboard and it comes loose. There in the floor is an old Nike’s shoebox. You throw salt on it, and you feel your foot being tugged again. 

“Shit!” You grab your knife at your side and slam it into the floorboard, trying to keep yourself from being dragged away from the box. With your other hand, you grab at the lighter in your pocket, flicking the wheel.

“Find peace!” You scream, once there is a flame, and drop it onto the shoebox, and it lights. The grip around your ankle loosens and you watch as Jessica screams in pain, flames consuming her ghostly form. Your breathing is hard and you collapse on the floor, exhausted. You watch as the box continues to burn, burning away the rest of Chris’s stolen objects. Watching the objects burn, you feel lighter, as if your own problems were being burned away with them. Chris never grabbed a trophy from you, but it had always felt like he had. Now, you were being freed too. 

“Y/n?!” You hear Dean’s voice, loud, panicked, and masculine. 

“I’m fine! She’s gone!” You call back, pushing yourself back up. You limp towards the stairs and look down. Dean is looking up, and he has Chris in tow, wrapped in a blanket. “Is he?”

“Yeah.” He replies bluntly. You groan in disgust. “I’m coming down.” You climb down, gingerly, as your ankle hurts a lot more than it did earlier. You look at Chris, who is no longer smiling or haughty. He’s shivering, clearly panicked and cold. 

“Jessica is gone. She’s crossed over.”

“What?”

“She’s gone. But don’t forget that you created this. Your actions are what created this vengeful spirit.”

“Psh, I didn’t do shit. Where’s my stuff?”

“Gone, burnt it all up.” 

“You what?” He goes to attack you, but Dean grabs the blanket that was wrapped around him and throws him to the wall. You walk towards Chris, your palm out, shoving him into the wall and pinning him there.

“Listen closely Christopher Prince. I am not the same woman you attacked so many years earlier. I am now a very powerful badass witch. And you now owe me a debt for saving your life. You will never, never, touch another woman again. Or I will know, and I will track you down, and I will make you pay.” Your eyes are full with rage, channeling the same emotions you felt from Jessica. Chris quivered under your gaze, swallowing hard.

“Do you understand me Mr. Prince?” He nods rapidly and you drop him. He remains sprawled on the floor, Dean smirking at you and then at Chris. As you walk away from Chris, you walk on your bad ankle, ignoring the pain, trying to appear tough as you walk away from your once would be rapist. You don’t hear Dean behind you.

“You coming?” You turn to look at him.

“Just one second.” You watch as crouches down to look at Chris, who is just staring at Dean with anger in his eyes. “This is to make sure you understand that you don’t put your hands on anyone again.” And he punches him hard in the face, knocking him out again. 

“Was that necessary?” You ask as he walks over to you.

“Nope, but it felt real damn good.” You shake your head at him, mildly amused. 

But once you leave the house, you drop the pretense and take the weight off your ankle, holding onto Dean’s arm.

“What happened?”

“It’s nothing. Jessica just grabbed at my sprained ankle is all. It just aggravated the injury is all.”

“You always say it’s nothing. You don’t have to put up a front for me. You know that right?”

“I know Dean. Thank you.” 

You and Dean drive back to the motel and you reflect. For so long, you held on to the blame for so much. You blamed yourself for anything Chris had done after what he did to you. You blamed yourself for the death of your child and husband. You blamed yourself for all the deaths of those men murdered by Sherry. You blamed yourself for Henry’s death. But you didn’t want to end up like Jessica, blaming victims for the acts of others. You always hoped for others to accept you, your dad, Dean, Sam, friends, family. Perhaps it was about time you accepted yourself. Maybe, you should start to let go of some of the things that weighed on you and start looking to the future you could have. 

“You coming?”

“Huh?”

“I said, are you coming? We’re here and you’re off who knows where.”

“I was just thinking. Yeah, I’m coming in.” You both head into the motel room, limping a bit, and collapse happily onto the bed, spreading out and enjoying the softness of it. You’d never felt more comfortable in your entire life!

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet.” Dean chuckles, locking the motel room door. You sit up and look at him. “We still need to talk. I told you a few days ago that I wanted to talk, back when you were telling me about that hunter constellation.”

“Orion.”

“Yeah, him.”

“Okay, what’d you want to talk about?” The question was just a segue. You had a feeling you knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and you were both nervous and excited. 

“Do you remember what happened after Chris?”

“You mean, at the motel?”

“Yeah, at this motel?”

“You bought me dessert and then you...kissed me.”

“Yeah. You had said that Chris had been your first kiss. And I gotta admit, that pissed me the hell off. I didn’t really know why back then. I just knew that I was mad and jealous and I felt that it wasn’t right. So I kissed you.”

“And you said that that was my first kiss. And I’ve thought that ever since.”

“You... you did?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” He smiled at your response, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. 

“You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss. I remember it, every so often.”

“Really?” You had to admit, you did to. Even, guiltily, when you were with Alex. 

“Yeah. And when I saw you again at the funeral, it rushed back in vivid detail, but I was so damn mad at you, I ignored it. And then again, when we showed up at your house. I wanted to hold you then too, but I couldn’t stop being mad. Especially when you said you went and got married. And you didn’t even tell us.”

“I am really sorry about that.”

“Let me finish.” You nod at him. “And then there was the witch thing. And I wasn’t mad about you being a witch. I could get over that. It was the lying part that pissed me off. And I remembered that night, when you called me. Did you know that? I was at your house, drinking, and all I could think about was your phone call. My heart was pounding when you called me back then. But you called me. You trusted me. You didn’t call Bobby, and you really should have. He was way closer. You called me. You were so honest with me back then, and three weeks ago, I find out that you’d actually been lying to me the whole damn time. I felt betrayed.” He shuffled, taking a step from the door, before stopping. He fiddled with the room key before looking back up at you and continuing. 

“But this past month with you, heh, it’s like opening my eyes. I told Sam that we Hunters don’t get a normal life. We don’t get to be happy. But when I’m with you, it’s the happiest I’ve ever felt. And seeing you work this case, I’ve never been more damned impressed by you. Stay with us Y/n. Stay with me.”

“Dean.” You smile at him. Your heart felt like it was full to burst. “I was already planning on staying with you both, you big idiot. Was that what you were so worried about? Is that why you wanted me to come with you?”

“That, and to be honest, because every time I got a moment alone with you, Sam barged in.” 

“Well, there’s no Sam here.” You point out. His eyebrow cocks at you. 

“That is true.”

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“The plan was to knock out until noon, but…” He walks towards you, taking long strides, and within seconds, you’re standing in his arms.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” He says, searching your face. 

“Kiss me.” You answer, and you feel his lips on yours. After fantasizing about it for so long, with nothing more than a memory as a teen, you finally had Dean Winchester. His hands were in your hair and he was kissing you like a man insane. You could barely breathe, but you didn’t stop. You wanted him to touch you, everywhere. But as he starts to kiss your neck, lips trailing down your cheek, there is a tenderness of the skin you had forgotten about.

“Ah!” You let out a cry of pain, involuntarily. 

“What’s wrong?” He stops immediately, looking at your face. 

“Nothing. Nothing. Keep going.” 

He looks at you, then down to your chest. For a second, you think you’d gotten away with it, but recognition floods his face. “No way. I’d completely forgotten you’d broken a rib. Not to mention you were practically hung today and last night.”

“You have to be kidding me here Dean. It ain’t broken. It’s just a bruise.” You loop your fingers through his belt and pull him close. The whole thing made you feel bold.

“Any ordinary day, that would be the biggest turn on. But no way. Not when you’re hurt. Sorry babe, but you’re on bed rest.” You groan in frustration, all types of frustration, as you collapse back onto the bed.

“You suck when you’re the responsible one, you know that?”

“Welcome to my world. Now get some sleep. We’ll head back around noon.”

“Good night Dean.”

“Good night Y/n.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Dean leave the next morning, saying goodbye to Jody before you left. She gave you a signature mom hug, told you to call her if you ever needed anything, and then did the same to Dean. She looks at you both in turn and smiles, a knowing look in her eye that makes you blush a little. She doesn’t say anything except that she hopes everything works out, winking and ushering you both home. 

It had been a little over a week since you and Dean had come back from Sioux Falls. And true to his word, he refused to lay a hand on you while you were still injured. You didn’t exactly enjoy it, but there was no sense in fighting it. You had spent a lot of time resting after you and Dean came back and about six days after, the three of you went hunting together. There was a problem with a ghoul a few towns over that Garth had asked you all to check out. It had been pretty standard and you were happy to realize that your ribs barely hurt. One step closer to recovery. You’d been back from that Hunting trip for over a day though, and still nothing. 

You were all eating dinner, some takeout Chinese. You hadn’t felt like cooking that night, and the guys were getting real used to you cooking. You picked at your lo mein, the dinner table awkwardly quiet as Dean reads the news on his phone and Sam was on his computer. You placed your fork down suddenly and excused yourself from the table.

“You okay?”

“Fine Sam. Full.”

“You barely touched your plate.” Dean said gruffly.

“Observant, aren’t you? I’m good Dean. I’m gonna head to my room. Night boys.” You said a little more snappy than intended. You didn’t mean to come off so bitter, but it had been a little awkward between you and Dean and navigating Sam after what happened in South Dakota. You walked into your room, turning on your stereo, connected to an iPod Dean had picked up for you. You picked a jazz playlist and laid down on the bed, listening to the soft croon from the speakers. It was relaxing. And then Creedence Clearwater’s “I Put a Spell on You” came on and you smile. You got out of bed and danced, danced like you hadn’t in so long. What a perfect song for you! You had your hands in the air and you swerved your hips rhythmically. When the song ended, you felt your heart pang. You needed to hear the song again. 

You put it on repeat and play it again, dancing and becoming lost in the music. You close your eyes, swinging your arms, and fall into the rhythm. You became so lost in it, you didn’t hear the door open and shut. You just keep enjoying the song, dancing like no one was watching. Until you heard a sound, something like a chuckle, and then you turn around to face your intruder, hands up and ready to fight. It was Dean, smiling at you. 

_“I said watch out, I ain’t lying, yeah, I ain't gonna take none of your, foolin' around...”_

“Dean…”

“Don’t stop on my account.” He smiles at you and your stomach dips. But the music is still playing and you have no reason not to continue, and so you do just that. And he watches you for a bit before locking the door behind him. He begins walking towards you, slowly this time. You keep dancing, your eyes locked with his. 

He is standing in front of you, your arms still in the air and your hips still swaying to the crooning of Clearwater. He places his hands on your hips, and they trail up along your torso, up your arms, above your head, and stop to grip your hands. He brings your hands down, wrapping them around his neck, before placing his hands back onto your hips. He pulls you close, the feeling of denim on denim, as he sways side to side with you. You look up at him, those green eyes staring at you, intense, wanting. No words pass between you both, you just sway and dance to the music. 

_“I put a spell on you, because you're mine…”_

“I ain’t lyin.” Dean croons, dipping you, and you melt. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Dean sing, at least not like that, not genuine and soft and full of such need. He has a wonderful voice, like honey and whiskey. He brings you back up from the dip and with one hand on the back of your head, he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips are on yours, and the music fades into the background. He tastes like scotch and mouthwash. You regret not brushing your own teeth for a second, but that is silenced when his tongue flicks out towards yours. A soft moan escapes your lips. 

His other hands slides down from your hip to your thigh, pushing it up around his leg as he cups your ass. Hours must have gone by as you both kiss each other like nothing else matters. He lifts your other leg and you hook your ankles around his back and arms behind his head as he effortlessly carries you to the bed. He throws you gently on it, and you let out a small gasp as your head hits the mattress. He crawls over you, staring down at your face.

“Are you good?”

“Of course.”

“Your ribs?”

“Healed.” You reassure him.

“I just want to make sure, you’re okay if I keep going? Cause I’ll stop right here, right now, if that’s what you want.”

“Dean Winchester, I want you more than anything in this world.” He smiles softly at you, and then kisses you once more, before moving on and kissing your cheek, then under your ear, your neck, your clavicle. He stops and makes a small suck above your breast, causing you to shiver. You’re so distracted by it, you hadn’t even realized his hands were on your shirt, unbuttoning one at a time, as he makes careful work of kissing every part of your skin. Your hands are in his hair, so soft and grabbable. 

“Ugh!” He groans as you give a soft tug and he smiles at you, big and toothy. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.”

“Do your worst.” On cue, he yanks the shirt, snapping the remaining few buttons, revealing just your bra. “Not what I meant! I like this shirt.”

“Whoops.” He smiles at you again, straddling you, your shirt in hand like a trophy. 

“Two can play it that game.” You point your palms at him and separate your hands, calling upon your magic, and causing his own shirt to rip into two pieces, exposing his chest to you. It had been so long since you’d seen him without a shirt. You noticed he had a symbol on his chest now, an anti possession tattoo. Clever. He was much more masculine now then when you were all teenagers. The Hunting life had been good to him. You reach out and grab at his arms, feeling the muscles under his shoulders, and then move them down his chest, enjoying the feel of the subtle abs. He shivers at your touch. 

“Now that’s a way to use witchcraft.” His mouth is back on yours, silencing your next retort, and his hands are on your breast, massaging and teasing, the callouses rough on your skin. You raise up for him as he grips your back, effortlessly undoing the bra clasp. He takes you into his mouth once you’re released and you let out another moan as his tongue flicks at your peak. You haven’t been touched in so long, and Dean’s mouth is pure ecstacy. The man knew his way around a woman. 

His hands dip down and he unbuttons your jeans, a small gasp as he pulls them and your underwear off in one fell swoop. He continues to kiss your breast, then move down to your stomach, licking at your belly button, and then…

“Oh!” You cry out. He looks up at you from between your legs.

“Shh, don’t want anyone else to hear you baby.” And he gets back to work, his tongue flicking while his hands continue to grope your ass and your thighs. You place a hand over your mouth to quiet your moans and squeaks. You buck into him and his strong hands push your hips down, stopping you from moving. You’re so close and on the edge when he starts to slow down. He gives a teasing lick here and there, then goes to kissing at your thighs and chest again, before returning back to you. Each time you get close, he stops and kisses other parts of your body once more. 

“You ass!” You yell at him and he just chuckles at you. “Don’t make me get even with you Dean Winchester.” You say, breathless.

“Yes ma’am.” And he goes back down on you and keeps going, this time not stopping until a wave of pleasure washes over you. You shake from the release and let out a sigh of contentment. 

“Dear God.” You gasp, chuckling with pleasure, eyes closed as you come back to your senses.

“God had nothing to do with it sweetheart.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” You reply, hearing the sound of his belt being removed. He drops his jeans and boxers on the floor as you watch, propped up on an elbow. You smirk as he spills out. “Oh yes.” You chuckle gleefully at his size. 

“Always nice to meet a fan.”

“Shut up and get over here.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles, pulling a condom from his discarded jeans. “Always be prepared. Hunter’s motto.” You grab it from him as he slips it out of the package.

“May I?” You ask, and he nods at you, licking his lips patiently. You grab him, eliciting a moan as you slip the condom on. You pump once, twice, three times, and he grabs your hand to stop you. He looks you in the eye, an animalistic hunger in them that is positively erotic, then he grabs at your waist, throwing you back down onto the bed. He grabs himself, aiming at your entrance, before slowly sliding in. He’s not completely in, you can tell, as he pumps, slowly working you, before thrusting deep. You both rhythmically push against each other, gaining speed, ignoring the loud squeaking of the old bed as you both continue. You feel the second orgasm hit you as Dean keeps thrusting. You let out another moan, which seems to have pushed Dean right where he needed to be, as he too comes and lets out an audible moan. He collapses softly on your chest, both of you breathing heavy. The whole thing delicious, and you can still feel him inside you. 

He kisses your cheek affectionately before moving over. The absence of him hitting you and you find yourself missing him already. You watch as he moves around the room and collects his boxers. 

“Are you leaving?”

“Not unless you want me to.” He says, as he grabs your underwear too and tosses them to you. 

“No, stay. With me.”

“I ain’t planning on leaving you anytime soon Y/n.” He moves back into bed with you, bringing you close against his chest, the feel of him enveloping you as you both drift to sleep.


	14. The Magic in Deals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first trial to seal Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take some more smut. I'm not too great at it, but I thought I'd give you a little bit more. I hope you enjoy it. More notes at the end.
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is still watching. I appreciate and love all of you. 
> 
> Shout out to Squibbles94 for proofreading my fic. It's officially 202 pages long as of tonight and I have never written a story this easily. It makes me so happy!

You wake up the following morning, your bare back pressed against something hard. A wave of memories flood back and you turn to look at a sleeping, bare chested Dean Winchester. Those rippling abs and small scars from old Hunting trips. You just stare at his face, soft in his sleep. You push his bangs out of his face, stroking your thumb across his forehead. He has a shadow of a beard forming, but it only enhances his masculinity. His eyes flutter open and he stares at you, a smirk beginning at the side of his mouth. That beautiful mouth. 

“Hey there beautiful.” His voice comes out, dry and masculine and sleepy. 

“Hey there yourself.” You lean in for a kiss, a peck to begin the day, but as you move back, he captures the back of your head and deepens the kiss. You reciprocate, despite the morning breath, despite the fact that you had only just woken up.

“Feeling frisky this morning Dean?”

“How could I not when you’re there in front of me.” He’s massaging your breast, flicking a finger over your nipple and you moan in response. He shushes you before kissing you again, flipping you on your back gently and climbing on top.

“I’ve got one more condom. You tell me whether I should stay or leave.” You smile at him, genuinely grateful that each time he wanted to continue, he checked with you first. Now that was a man.

So you reply, breathily, “stay.” He smiles at you, full teeth, and his hand strokes down your chest and slides into your underwear. Your head tilts back as his fingers bring nothing but ecstasy. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

About an hour later, you and Dean are both dressed, him in his clothes from the previous night, and you in a signature black tank top and navy blue sweatpants. You’re combing your fingers through your hair, trying to remove the very obvious sex hair. Dean loved your hair and spent most of his time with his fist in it. You blush at the memory, one final comb through before entering what could be called “the living room.” 

Sam is at the table, on his laptop and drinking a cup of coffee. When he looks up, he turns beet red and turns right back to his computer. _He can’t have. Oh God, please tell me he doesn’t-_

“Morning Sam.” You sit down across from him as Dean makes his way to the kitchen. Sam avoids your eye and just continues to type away. “Coffee please, Dean!”

“You got it.” He calls back. You twiddle your thumbs, awkwardly, unsure of what to say. 

“Anything in the news?” You ask him. He just shakes his head and mutters, “Nope,” in response. 

“What’s eating you Sammy?” Dean asks loudly, setting your cup of coffee down in front of you. He confirms how you took your coffee before you sip it, happy he remembered your preference. It had been so long. Dean sits next to you, closer than he normally did.

“Don’t make me say it.” He moans. _Shit, he did!_

“Come on Sammy!”

“Dean, cut it out.”

“Why? Sam, whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re family man.” He looks up at you, his face somehow managing to become even more red.

“You know that these walls are thin right? This isn’t really a place of privacy.” Recognition floods Dean’s face and you go red, mortified.

“Sam, I’m really sor-”

“It’s fine.” He says quickly, cutting you off. “Just, come on guys. At least in the morning, could you, I don’t know… Keep it down? I mean, really?” He makes a sound of disgust before walking back towards his own room. You watch him walk away and suddenly feel awful, remembering what he had told you just a few weeks ago about Amelia. 

“I mean, I get it’s embarrassing, but he’s heard worse from me.”

“Dean, are you brain dead?” You look at him, upset at how clueless he was being. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Go talk to your brother.”

“What for? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Dean, your brother is hurting, so go talk to him.”

“What are you talking about?” He is genuinely confused and both of your voices are getting louder.

You hiss out, “Amelia.” 

“He’s still on that?”

“Dean, he spent a year with her. Go talk to him. He’s probably pissed about it or something, just go talk to him please.”

“He’ll get over it.”

“I swear. You both have always been bad about talking to each other. Go talk to your brother now Dean Winchester.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Good, now if you don’t mind, there’s a spell I need to research.”

“What kind?”

“Go talk to Sam.”

“Fine!” He walks away, coffee in hand, as you make your way to the library. They had an extensive spellbook selection. You knew what you were looking for, and it would definitely be helpful if you and Dean were going to continue forward, but it wouldn’t be easy. Looking for a contraception spell would mean possibly stumbling upon the same spell Sherry used to cause your miscarriage. Each day was always hard, that memory always on the backburner of your brain, but you pushed through it. There was a lot of shit in your life, and like all things, you had to move past it rather than dwell upon those memories. 

You realize that your hands had been shaking and your skin felt flushed. There was a lump in your throat and a pain deep in your stomach, a phantom pain of a distant past. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. Perhaps, this could wait until later? 

“A show first. Than I can deal with this, right?” You say out loud, the sound of your voice breaking the silence around you was comforting. You went back to your room and gathered your shower things and head to the communal wash, putting a sign on the door to stay out, so that you could shower in peace. 

By mid afternoon, you had convinced yourself three times that the spell could wait until later. You instead decide to unpack some of the boxes you’d brought back from home, putting clothes away in the wardrobe and putting up pictures of your friends, (Sherry cut out from it), and a picture of Alex, mom, and Bobby. Your dad got a place of honor in the middle of the wardrobe, your mom right next to him. Over the month of hunting with Dean and Sam, you had come to forgive your dad.

“Great minds think alike.” Dean’s voice came from the door.

“What do you mean?”

“I just finished unpacking myself.”

“It seemed like we were going to be staying a while, so I brought a few things from the house. Not a lot, but just a little, to make it feel like home.” Dean walked in, taking the picture of Bobby off the wardrobe. He looked at it for a bit before finally talking. 

“He was a good man, you know. He felt awful about what happened.” 

“Well good.” You say. Just because you forgave him didn’t mean you suddenly forgot everything that happened. The warmth of his chest on your back was comforting. 

“Harsh.” Dean replied, putting the picture frame back on the shelf.

“Bobby wasn’t exactly sunflowers and rainbows Dean. People used to tell me that he was never the same after mom died. Heh, the way I say it, it was like she died of natural causes.” You say bitterly. You didn’t like to think much about it, but your mom had been possessed by a demon when you were very little, before you had known the Winchesters. You didn’t remember it, you had to have been two, maybe three years old at the time. Bobby had told you one night, when he had been really drunk, that she had tried to kill you, and he had no choice but to stop her. It wasn’t long after that that Bobby got into Hunting and you had met the Winchesters. “Bright side, we would never have met if it weren’t for mom’s death.” 

“Hey, I got you.” Dean’s arms tightened around you, holding you firmly, protectively, to his chest.

“Thanks. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m bringing this up again. Just been moody I guess. In my head too much.”

He turns you around to face him, smiling softly, and wiping a tear from your eye. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. “You can talk to me about anything, you know that right?”

“Yeah. I know. Family and all.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really like to think about you as family, you know. I don’t want to date my sister.” 

“Sex two times and you call this dating? I don’t think so Winchester. I’m a woman who needs to be wined and dined first.”

“How about whiskey and burgers?”

“Done.”

You were sitting at the table in the library with Sam, who was quietly reading several books laid out. You yourself had finally decided to grab a spellbook or two and look for that spell, although most everything you saw were fertility spells. 

“Sam, are we good?” You ask suddenly.

“What? Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed upset was all.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess...I was thinking about Amelia.”

“I figured.”

“I’m better now. Dean actually came and talked to me about it. It kind of helped.” He said, almost disbelieving his own words.

“I’m glad.”

“What’re you two reading?” Dean says, coming out with three plates, holding them waiter style.

“Sort of, uh, everything.” Sam responds as Dean places a plate down in front of you both. 

“Oh, good. Somebody's gonna have to dig through all this, and it ain't gonna be me.” 

Sam lifts the bun off the burger. “You made these?”

“We have a real kitchen now.” He says pointedly. 

“I know.I-I just didn’t think you knew what a kitchen was.” Sam says and you try to stifle a laugh. Dean just glares at you.

“I’m nesting, okay? Eat” He says, almost offended. 

“I’m sorry Dean. Thank you.” You tell him.

“Don’t condescend to me sweetheart. Eat the burger.” You and Sam look at each other before looking down at the food. You both hadn’t had something made by Dean since you were little kids, and that was boxed macaroni and cheese. You both take a bite and…

“Holy crap.” “Wow.” You and Sam express at the same time. It was real damn good, medium rare, tender, and juicy. Dean did a damn good job seasoning the meat too. And as a witch, you knew your seasonings.

“Did you use paprika?”

“Maybe.” He says, smiling and proud of himself. 

“Dean, I didn’t even know you could cook!”

“There’s a lot of things I can do that you haven’t learned yet.” He winks at you.

“Gross. I’m trying to eat here.” Sam complains. You giggle and take another bite of heaven in a bun. As Dean goes to take a bite, he gets a phone call, pissed at the interruption. 

“Yo. What? Kevin? Kevin?!”

“Something wrong?” Sam asks.

“Who’s Kevin?” They hadn’t entirely caught you up on everything as there hadn’t been a lot of time. All you know was there was an ancient tablet and angels and demons were fighting for it. 

“Guess.” Dean says to Sam, grabbing his plate and goes to leave. You and Sam both go to follow him, burgers in hand.

“What’s going on?” You call to Dean.

“We’ll explain on the way. We’ve gotta go meet a friend. Pack a bag.”

“This whole explain later deal is really dumb. You could just give me a hint now?” You call back to him as he goes into his room. Sam walks up next to you.

“Faster we pack, faster we can give you a rundown. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do Y/N.”

“Y’all ever miss being simple Hunters? Not the, save-the-world-from-an-apocalypse Hunter.”

“All the time Sis, all the time.” He heads to his room, leaving you smiling. You hadn’t heard Sam call you Sis in a long time. Since you were teenagers. Damn, you missed the Winchesters.

The drive to Garth’s boathouse was intense as Dean and Sam both took turns catching you up on everything, including about Kevin Tran, the young Prophet of the Lord who was deciphering an Demon Tablet. 

You all arrive at the docks, and as Dean leaves the car, he tells you and Sam to gear up. 

“Always am.” You hold your hands out to him, giving him a wink. But for good measure, you strap a knife to your side and put a pistol in your gun holder. 

“Better.” Dean says, as you finish. “Y/n, check the exterior before coming in. If you see something, yell for us. Do not do anything by yourself.”

“I’m not defenseless Dean.” He shoots you the “can you not argue please” look, and you grunt at him. 

“Fine, I’ll check the perimeter.” You walk the length of the dock and around the boat, one hand out, the other on your gun. It’s still light out, so you try not to look too conspicuous. A very hard thing to do when you’re also trying to be cautious and ready for a demon attack. But there’s nothing in the surrounding area. On your way back, you are slightly startled by a noise from the water, as a bird flies off to look for its next meal. You curse at yourself for being so silly and then head onto the boat and down into the living quarters, muttering about it being a waste of time, feeling like Dean was just trying to get rid of you. 

“Sure, yeah – breakfast of champions. Look, I'm gonna feel dirty saying this, but you might want a salad and a shower.” You hear Dean’s voice as you enter the grimey boat. There is rust everywhere and the interior is well worn. Definitely a bachelor pad. The place is full of books, hunting and fishing gear, Hunting gear, and papers with scribbled notes all around. 

You see a young Asian kid with dark black hair sitting at the table. He had to be in highschool, with how young he looked. But he was definitely worse for wear. His skin was sickly and gray, his eyes were bloodshot and had dark rings around them. He has dried blood around his nostrils and a tissue in his hands. His clothes were as grimy as the boat. 

“Dean suggesting a salad. Did Hell freeze over and I miss the memo?” You shoot him a smile. 

He smiles and stands up weakly. “Actually, something similar. I figured out how to close the Gates of Hell.” 

Dean and Sam exchange a look at each other, then start laughing. You just stare at him, processing the words. Close the gates of Hell. No more demons, no more possessions. No more victims like mom and Bobby. Like mom and dad.

“Come here, you smelly son of a bitch.” Dean walks over to him, hugging him and lifting him off the ground. 

Sam claps his hands, “Okay, okay. So what does this mean? What are we looking at?” Kevin walks towards a board with several papers and begins look through several papers on the cabinet below it. Dean follows him. 

“It’s a spell.”

“Now we’re speaking my language! What kind?” You ask, moving around the table, putting a hand on the chair Kevin had vacated. 

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Kevin asks, as if he just realized that a stranger had entered his space. He seemed a little nervous.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Y/n.” You smile at him, waving a hand in the air. “Sam and Dean have told me about you. Kevin Tran right?” Kevin just looks at Dean, waiting.

“Kevin, this is Y/n Singer. She’s my-” He stops and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him, smiling a bit and crossing your arms around your chest, waiting to see what he says. Sam smiles too, enjoying the moment. “She’s my girlfriend? And an old childhood friend. The three of us practically grew up together. She’s clean. Well, a witch, but clean.”

“I resent that. There are several good witches in this world.”

“Um, nice to meet you.” Kevin says, still nervous and unsure how to continue.

“I’ve studied quite a bit of magics. What kind is it? Aramaic? Babylonian? Hebrew?”

“Enochian actually, just a few words.” He hands the piece of paper to Dean.

Sam comes up next to you. “That’s the language of the angels.”

“That’s one I haven’t studied.” You walk up behind Dean, Sam standing next to you. He shows you the paper. It looks like a bunch of shapes and squiggles to you.

“There’s a catch though. The spell has to be spoken after you finish each of the three trials.” Kevin continues, his voice a little nasally and stuffed. 

“T-trials like, uh, like "Law & Order"?” Sam asks as Dean hands him the sheet of paper.

“More like Hercules. The tablet says, ‘Whosoever chooses to undertake these tasks should fear not danger, nor death, nor…’ A word I think means getting your spine ripped out through your mouth for all eternity.”

“Good times.” Dean says sarcastically. 

“Basically, God built a series of tests, and when you've done all three, you can slam the gates.”

 

“Let me see that Sam.” You grab at the paper in Sam’s hands, trying to make out the wording. The boys kept talking while you looked over the paper. Now that you had a chance to look at it, it seemed a lot like Hebrew. You’d never seen Enochian before. In your years of studying, you had never even heard about it. What had Dean and Sam been doing all this time you were away?

“I've only been able to crack one of the tests so far, and it's gross. You've got to kill a hound of hell and bathe in its blood.” 

 

“Awesome.” Dean says, dismissively. Both you and Sam question his response. There was nothing awesome nor simple about what Kevin had said. Hell hounds were mean, nasty creatures. Woe to any who were hunted by them. You had never encountered any of them, but you’d read several books on the lore. 

“Hey, if this means icing all demons, I got no problem gutting some devil dog and letting Calgon take me away.” He says, referencing the bath and body product commercial. 

“You make it sound so simple Dean, but these are hellhounds. Mean and nasty. And they aren’t something you can just summon and call it a day.” Demons, you could summon if you knew their name, but the hounds were different. Summoning them took some major voodoo, and normally the kind of magic that you associated with demons, something none of you were going to be involved in any time soon. 

“Well, Hellhounds like to collect on crossroads deals. So all we got to do is track down some loser who signed over his special sauce ten years ago, get between him and Clifford the big dead dog –easy.” 

“Doesn’t sound easy.” Kevin responds.

“I echo the kid there.” You add in. 

“Look, you get on the net – see what you can dig up. I'm gonna go for a supply run because we need goofer dust, and the kid needs to eat something that's not ground-up hooves and pigs' anuses – not that there's anything wrong with that.” Dean says to you and Sam, walking towards the entrance of the boat. 

“Oh no you don’t. I’m coming with. If I let you go and get the dust, you’ll probably get swindled. I know what they’re valued at.”

Dean cocks his eyebrow at you. “You know goofer dust?”

“Basic Hoodoo. It’s like you keep forgetting I went to college for this crap. I told you that.”

“Right.” He chuckles. You give him a small shove out of the way as you make your way to the Impala. He closes the door of the Impala and smiles at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, just like looking at you.”

“Shut up and drive.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It was a good thing you went with Dean. Poor boy would have spent double what goofer dust was worth. You had gone through your little black book of contacts and found Eddie in the area. You had been browsing his herbs when Dean had attempted to buy the dust. If you hadn’t overheard, Dean would have been out almost a hundred dollars. You had walked over, elbow on the counter, and given Eddie a big smile before reminding him that you were the one who had tipped him off about where he could find goofer dust. Dean had been impressed with you when you’d left the herbal remedy shop. “I’ve told you time and time again, having a witch for a Hunter was helpful.” You had told him proudly. 

Then you had both gone to the grocery store to pick up the nutrition Kevin desperately needed. Dean was genuinely in shock when you took him down the produce aisle. His eyes were wide with wonder and he kept picking up various tomatoes and onions and potatoes, surprised that there were so many types. You on the other hand, was far more on task, grabbing the makings of a salad and picking up some chicken salad from the deli aisle. On the way out, Dean had grabbed some pills, throwing them in the cart. It was migraine medication and caffeine pills. You question Dean’s choice in grabbing them, but he insists that they’re necessary. You drive back to Garth’s houseboat with the supplies. 

As you are leaving the Impala, he grabs your hand and tugs you back into the seat and gently towards him, and presses his lips against yours. You kiss him back.

“What was that for?”

“Earlier, when I called you my girlfriend, that was okay right?”

“I like that more than ‘the woman I’m having sex with.’” You joke.

“Hey, I’m serious here.”

“Oh.” You blush a little. “Dean, I’m happy to be your girlfriend.”

“Good. Good.” He gives you a peck on the cheek before getting out of the car, grabbing the grocery bag from the back of the Impala. 

You grab it from his hands. “I’ll take that, thank you. I’ll chop the lettuce up and such. Kid looks like he’ll keel over any second.”

“Yes ma’am.” He smiles at you. You love the way he calls you ma’am. It just drips out of his mouth, like southern honey, despite not really having much of an accent anymore. All the traveling, you figured.

“Hey. Did you know that there are, like, six thousand kinds of tomatoes?” Dean proclaims excitedly as you both enter the boathouse.

“Sorry it took so long. He insisted on looking at all six thousand. Kitchen?” You ask Kevin. He points towards your side, next to the door. You realize that that small cabinet and sink were actually his kitchen. There were so many papers and books piled on it, you hadn’t realized that there was a stove. You grab the cleanest towel you can find and wipe down one of the counters, pulling out the salad ingredients. 

The utensils in the drawer are subpar at best, so you grab the knife from your belt and use it to start chopping the lettuce. You listen to Sam about the signs of a demon in Idaho. A family named the Cassitys who had struck oil in a location that should not have had any. Sounded like a good prospect. You threw the lettuce into a bowl you found in the sink. It didn’t seem too dirty, but you gave it a quick rinse, just in case. You grabbed a tomato and started to chop it next as Dean gives the pills to Kevin, which you are happy to know that Sam also thinks is a bad idea. No sense in arguing with Dean Winchester though, hard headed fool. They start to make their way towards the door.

“Hold up, almost done.”

“I think you should sit this one out sweetheart.”

“Excuse me?” Your hands are on your hip, the knife still in hand, giving you a fairly menacing presence.

“I don’t want you getting hurt. Why don’t you stay here, watch Kevin?”

“Yeah, okay.” 

Dean chuckles and looks to his brother. “That was easier than I thought.” You wipe your knife on the towel, cleaning the tomato juice off of it. Dean and Sam open the boat and head out.

“Kevin, chop the onions, cucumbers, and tomatoes, throw them in. There are also some croutons and chicken salad. We got you a few other things too in case you were tired of hot dogs.” You walk quickly to catch up to them. As Dean closes his door and starts the car, you use your magic to open the Impala’s back seat door, behind Sam, and rush in.

“Thought I wasn’t going to catch up.” You smile, Dean’s furrowed brows visible in the rear view mirror.

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

“Let me remind you dear that there is nothing easy about me. You’re stuck with me Dean Winchester. And if you think I’m going to let my boyfriend and baby brother fight a hell hound without me, you are nuts.”

He is mumbling angrily to himself, you catch the words “baby brother, right” as he turns the key in the ignition, the Impala roaring to life. The trip was going to take about twenty hours, so the three of you stop at a motel. Dean had booked two rooms, and still feeling bad, you grab one of the keys and tell Dean to spend some time with his brother.

“What?”

“I’ve got some hex bags to prep and hellhound research to do. You, my dear, are a distraction.” And with that, you shut the motel door, leaving Dean with his brother Sam in the other room. 

You decide to text Dean to elaborate on why you wanted separate rooms, and to make him feel a bit better. 

**You: It’s good to spend time with your brother. Sorry.**

**Dean: But it’s so much more fun to spend it with you. Like this morning.**

**Dean: There could always be a round 2. ;)  
**

**  
**

**You: I’m working.**

**Dean: :(  
**   
“Cute Dean.” And put your phone aside. You pull out the old protection hex bags and replace the old ingredients with fresh, new ones. That will keep them working better. Then you go through your old college’s online library and start researching hell hounds and their weaknesses. 

There’s a knock at your door past midnight. You’ve been reading for hours and your eyes hurt from the strain of staring at a screen for several hours. Massaging your eyes, you walk over to the door, already sure you know who it is. 

“Dean, I thought I told you to spend time with your brother.” You say, opening it. But it isn’t Dean. It’s Sam. “Oh, Sammy. Come on in. Where’s Dean?”

“He’s sleeping.” He says, walking in. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about the trials.”

“Dean is going to insist on doing them.”

He half sighs, half chuckles. “Yeah. How did you-?”

“Know? He’s Dean Winchester. And you’re here to ask me to convince him not to so that you can do it.” He goes to open his mouth. “How did I know that? Because you’re Sam Winchester. You’re both predictable, even after ten years apart.” You just smile at him, leaning against the wall. 

“You’re good. So, will you?”

“Nope.”

“What, why?”

“Because I’m going to do the trials.”

“No way. Dean’s not going to let that happen.”

“He’ll see reason. The trials is a spell. I’m a witch. Besides, you two knuckleheads are bound to mess something up.” Truth was, if anything went wrong, the world couldn’t afford to lose a Winchester. But a Singer. Hell, you were the last one, so who’d be counting if another wound up dead. 

“It should be-”

“Sam, only thing we should be is going to bed. It’s late. Good night.” You tell him, as you start ushering the taller Winchester out the door. 

“Y/n!”

“Little brother, this is not an argument to have at half past midnight.”

“Fine, pull the age card. Night, Sis.” You smile at him as he walks next door to his room. You close it, pull off your pants, and snuggle under the covers, exhausted.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re sitting shotgun this time, so you’ve spent a lot of time this trip with Dean’s hand on your thigh. Every so often, he had teased you by sliding his hand a little higher, but you would swat his hand away. A little part of you though wanted him to continue. If Sam hadn’t been in the car, you would have let Dean do whatever the hell he wanted, to be perfectly honest. 

Around mid-day, the Impala finally arrived at its destination, the automatic gates of Cassity Farms allowing you all to enter. You were all in Hunter gear, figuring there was no reason for FBI garb. Dean parks and goes into his usual macho spiel, going over the signs of hellhound activity again. He puts a knife in his jacket pocket and exits the Impala. You were a little uncomfortable about the whole thing, and you throw Sam a look that he agrees with. Neither of you want Dean to be the one to kill “Fido” the hellhound, but neither of you had said anything either. 

“Hey, pal, who runs this joint?” Dean asks towards the tractor. The sound of a wrench tightening a bolt can be heard under the green vehicle. A young woman slides out from under the tractor and damn is she pretty. She’s Hispanic and wearing a gray tank top and a red flannel. Actually, she’s wearing an outfit real similar to your own, you notice, amused. It was nice to see another badass woman out here. 

“You’re looking at her.” She responds, standing up from the creeper, the rolling seat she was using. 

“You...own the ranch?” Sam asks, caught by surprise. You, however, don’t question it. Why can’t this young, hot, woman be the owner?

“Nope, just manage the property. You three here about the job?” 

“How’d you guess?”

“We get our share of drifters. Ever worked a farm before?”

“Yeah.” You say. Dean looks over to you.

“Really?” He whispers, pulling you a bit away.

“It was the easiest way to get quick cash after I left home.” You whisper back, and a man walks over towards you, asking Ellie, the woman you were all speaking to, who you all were. The three of you introduce yourselves and you exchange pleasantries with Cassity’s husband, Carl Granville. He convinces Ellie to hire you on as helping hands and walks the three of you over to a barn nearby. She opens the door to reveal an old country room, with two sets of bunk beds. There were several farm tools on the walls. Ellie turns to look at you three. 

“You three will bed down in here. Breakfast is at 5, dinner is at 8, and in between, you’re mine. Questions?” Dean mumbles something about missing his room, but you and Sam tell her that you’re fine. She warns you both that the job won’t come easy though.

“So what do you want us to do?” You ask her.

“You ever milk a cow before?”

“Course. How many dairy cows you got?”

“Three. We mostly have horses, but there’s a few cattle here.” She tells you. Then she looks at the boys. “You two are going to be in the stables. I’m going to take Y/n to the cows, then come and show you both what you’re doing.” 

She takes you towards the cows, showing you where the machine is, as well as the buckets. Ellie then tells you that after you’re done with each bucket, take it to the strainer and then to the cooler in the back of the barn. She’ll take care of the rest from there. She also reminds you to clean the cow’s teats, the buckets, and make sure that the cows have plenty of food and water. You nod at her. It was nothing you hadn’t done before, although these machines were much more sophisticated than the last ones who had used. She leaves you then and you get to work, falling into a routine as if it were second nature. 

When you had left South Dakota the first time, you didn’t know where to go, so you ended up at a farm about four hours out with your bag of clothes and your car. You had maybe two hundred dollars to your name at the time, so there wasn’t much else to do but ask for a job. The owner, a single mother of four, took pity on you. You had told her that your dad had kicked you out for not wanting to take over the family salvage yard, but instead wanted to go to college. Karen Richards was her name. You had stayed with the Richards for a couple month, helping them on the farm, earning a bit of cash, and working on transferring colleges. It was a good experience for you. You go to check on the boys in the stables before dinner, and see them shoveling horse manure. Dean is complaining, as usual, about having the “shit” job. 

“And here I was upset that I was all on my lonesome today.” He jumps and turns to you, smiling. 

“Ellie caught me earlier. Said we should wash up before dinner. There’s no, uh, communal showers here. We’ll have to take turns.” You look to Dean, trying to communicate with your eyes as Sam shovels one last pile of poo into the barrel.

Dean nods and looks to his brother. “Uh, Sammy, why don’t you go first.” 

“Sure, but shouldn’t Y/N go first?”

“I’m going to help Dean put the tools away. We’ll meet you at dinner.”

“Okay?” Sam says, a little confused. He doesn’t pry though and continues on towards the shower, with you helping Dean clean off the tools and putting them where they belong.

 

The water pressure is fantastic and warm. It had been a long time since you’d done a hard day’s work and it feels great on the muscles that you know are going to be sore the next day. But the water pressure isn’t what you’re paying attention to at the moment. Dean’s mouth is nibbling your neck and his hands are on your breast again, your back against the cold shower wall. You’d both finished cleaning each other as quick as you could to get to the fun part. Everyone else was in the kitchen, prepping dinner, and there was a part in the back of your head that hoped no one, especially Ellie and Sam, was going to look for you. Last thing you needed right now was to run into your supervisor or your sort of brother. 

“Hey, I’m right here.” Dean says, looking at you.

“Yeah you are.”

“Your thoughts were wandering.”

“Well, I’m back. Do you have a condom? I know they’re not the most fun in the shower, but I don’t take birth control.”

“Yeah, I’ve got one in my pocket, hold on.” He steps out of the shower, and you can hear him gasping from the cold air outside the stall, as he rummages through his old jeans. You hear something tear and then the shower door opens and he’s back inside. You take the moment to look him up and down again. Every part of his body is firm, tight, muscular. Not in a million years did you think you would ever end up in a shower with Dean Winchester. A familiar emotion stirs in your chest. 

“It’s cold out there.”

“You don’t seem to show it.” You say, referring to his length, completely unaffected by its little trip outside the steam of the hot shower. He smiles at you again.

“Come here you.” He pulls you into him, mouth on yours. You open for him, your tongues clashing against each other. He nibbles your bottom lip, then sucks at your neck again, his hands moving down to your thighs. You gasp at all of the sensations happening at once.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Hell no.” You breathe out.

“Tell me you want me.” His voice is hoarse and deep. 

“I want you. Damnit I want you.” And his hands are between your legs, massaging you and opening you up for him. One finger plunges in, then a second, then all three, his calloused thumbs massaging your nub. You try not to cry out as his hands work you over expertly. Pleasure starts to build around you and right when you’re at your peak, his hands withdraw. You whimper at the loss. He chuckles in response. You’re about to protest when you feel him positioning himself at your entrance. 

As he enters you, his lips are on yours again, muffling your moans as he pounds into you. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, rocking into you. Your hands are around his neck, and he has one hand pressed firmly on your lower back, pushing you into him, and one against the wall of the shower for balance. You surrender to his relentless onslaught, speeding you towards release. You both don’t have much time before you know someone’s going to wonder where you both were. 

“Dean, I’m so close.” You moan, the pressure building once more.

“Me too baby. Me too.” He grits through his teeth.

“Come for me Y/n.” He whispers into your ear, and that’s all you need to push you over. That fine whiskey voice, breathless and husky and masculine. You come, putting a hand over your mouth to stifle your cry. He comes almost immediately, your own pleasure helping him reach his peak. You both just stare at each other, trying to catch your breath. 

“We should get back to work. Sammy and I think we have a lead on Alice Cassity, the wife.” He finally says after a few seconds of silence. Right back to business. You found it funny how easily you both transition from work to play and vice versa. 

“Yeah.” You respond, smiling at him, before giving him a quick peck on the lips. You open the door of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying off. You turn around to just see him standing there, naked, and staring at you like an idiot.

“Well, are you coming or not?” You ask. 

“I believe I already came.” 

You throw a towel towards him. “Clever. Let’s go.”

“Yes ma’am.” You could get used to an complacent Dean Winchester.

 

The three of you are standing in the side patio of the Cassity house, watching Carl and Alice having dinner. You can hear the horses suddenly getting worked up in the distance, after an animal howls. Alice excuses herself from the table, and the three of you follow her towards the barn. There is another howl off in the distance.

“Is that a hellhound, ‘cause it sounds like a normal wolf?” You whisper.

“No, you’ll know when there’s a hellhound.” Dean whispers back.

“They sound way worse than wolves.” Sam adds. But as you watch Mrs. Cassity walk into the barn, it isn’t her screaming you all hear, but a man’s back at the house. 

“Shit, her husband!” Sam and Dean start towards the house.

“Y/n, stay with Alice.” Dean yells to you as he heads towards the house. You run towards the barn, just in time to see Mrs. Cassity looking towards the house.

“Mrs. Cassity, I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You say, gently grabbing her wrist to stop her from running to the house.

“Who are you?” She cries out angrily, trying to pull her hand out of your grip, which is not tighter than before.

“Two of your workers went to check it out, but just in case, we should wait here. The horses are freaking out, we need to get them calm.” Her eyes suddenly glaze over in response and she becomes calm all of a sudden. 

“Okay.” She says and walks over to the horses, which are still panicking from the predatorial noises. You go to help her when your phone rings.

“Dean?” You ask, as you pick up the phone, not even looking at the caller ID.

“Carl’s dead. Ellie was here when we got here. She called the cops.”

“Shit, how?” You walk out of the barn, leaving Alice Cassity to calm the horses.

“Looks like an animal attack. A really big animal.”

“Civilian near you?”

“Yeah.”

You lower your voice a bit. “We thinking hellhound?” 

“Oh yeah.”

“So we missed our opportunity?”

“Looks like it. Listen, I’m going to wait here for the cops. You take care of Mrs. Cassity for now. We’ll meet up in an hour.” He tells you, sounding pissed, as he hangs up the phone.

“Who was that?” She asks, serene. 

“Mrs. Cassity, that was my friend who’s working with me. He said your husband…” You take a deep breath. You always hated telling the victims that their loved ones were gone. “Ma’am, your husband’s dead. Ellie’s called the police.”

“Huh.” Was all she said in response as she continued to calm the horses, taking one out of its stall. It was deep chestnut brown with a white kite shape on its face. You’re a little thrown off by her response, but you figure that maybe people process grief in different ways. You continue to help care for the horses, brushing their manes and making sure each has enough hay in their stalls, all the while keeping an eye on Mrs. Cassity. When you see the red and blue lights of the police car in the distance, and Mrs. Cassity still hasn’t said anything, you figure that something wrong was happening here. She’d been too calm for too long.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Cassity?”

“I’m fine.” She responds absently, stroking the horse’s coat with a brush.

“Mrs. Cassity, I just told you your husband died, and all you said was ‘huh.’ Are you sure?”

She just looks at you, her face confused. Her eyes are no longer glazed over, but there’s so much questioning in them.

“I really am. And...I know I shouldn’t be because I loved Carl...I think. I just can’t remember why.” _She’s acting like someone who was under a love spell._ You think to yourself.

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean... Carl grew up around here. We went to school together, and he was always mooning over me. But I never – I used to make fun of him.”

“When did that change?”

“Valentine's Day, 2003. I was at this party. Carl was there, and it was like I was seeing him for the first time. You know, suddenly he was cute and smart and funny. It was magic. Carl and I were happy for ten years. Now he's dead, and I'm not sad or angry. I'm just...fine.” You listen to her speak and you realize, this wasn’t a love spell that Carl used. He must have made the deal to win the love of Alice, not for oil. You had to tell Dean and Sam, and quickly.

“Mrs. Cassity, are you going to be okay if I leave?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve had a long day. You should probably get some sleep.”

“What about you?” 

“I think I’m just going to stay out here for a bit. Enjoy the fresh air.”

“If you say so, Mrs. Cassity.” You back out of the barn. It might have been a deal that Carl had made, but watching her nonchalance attitude about her husband’s death shook you. If it had been Dean...you shudder at the thought. Sam had told you Dean had been in Purgatory for a year, which meant that he had died. Dean had been dead for a year, and you had no idea. There’s a tightness in your chest, like someone was grabbing your heart and ribcage and squeezing. The thought of Dean being dead was painful. You would be a wreck if something happened to him. Your words to Sam the other night, about taking the trials on instead of Dean, echo in your mind. And with those feelings, you become resolved. You were going to take on the trials, whether Dean liked it or not. The Winchester Brothers would not be dying on your watch, not if you could help it. 

You hear Dean and Sam arguing from the bedroom, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. As you walk towards the door, you hear Sam say,

“That’s not a plan Dean. That’s suicide!”

“What is?” You demand.

 

Winchester POV  
_  
Useless. This entire trip was a waste of time. Should’ve just summoned a demon from the damn beginning._ Dean thinks angrily, as his little brother argues back. Dean was frustrated and didn’t want to listen to Sam whine any further. He knew his idea was better and it was the fastest way to gank a hellhound, rather than just waiting around for another idiot-who-made-a-deal’s time is up. 

“That’s not a plan Dean. That’s suicide!”

“What is?” Dean looks up from his bag at the sound of her voice. He stares at her. She’s panting a bit, as if she had rushed over to the room. Her hair is out of place and she’s doing that thing where her nose crinkles and her eyebrow raises whenever she’s curious about something. And he’s captivated by how beautiful she is. And with that captivation, hunger. He hadn’t felt like this for anyone in so long. And he hadn’t thought that she would ever be his. 

“Dean thinks we should summon a crossroads demon to try and lure in a hellhound. But it’s just going to end up summoning hundreds of them!” Sam says, throwing his older brother right under the proverbial bus.

“Well, you got a better idea?” He snaps at Sam.

“Dean, chill out for a second. Sam is just trying to help.” Her voice is soothing, but he can’t let himself get distracted. Every moment wasted puts his brother and his girlfriend in danger. With the Gates of Hell closed, he could keep them both safe. 

“Dean, Carl didn’t sell his soul for oil. He sold it for Alice, so that she would fall in love with him.”

“What does that mean?” Dean is too angry, too unfocused, to understand why that matters. All he knows is that the hellhound is gone.

“It means,” Sam continues, understanding almost immediately, “that another Cassity sold their soul for their wealth.”

“You’re saying that our demon made a deal with multiple people in town?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Sam responds. Thunder rumbles in the distance.

“Dean, our best bet is to stay a couple more days. The rest of the Cassitys are coming tomorrow. We can scope them out, wait for another hellhound to come. Then we kill it.” Dean didn’t like the way Y/n emphasized that “we” bit. But both his brother and his girlfriend, the most important people in his life, were ganging up on him. He hated when they did that. 

Ever since they were all kids, Dean could always tell that she liked him, harbored a secret crush on him, and dammit if he hadn’t encouraged it, but she always had a soft spot for Sam. She’d come right to Sam’s rescue and take his side, yelling at Dean each time. And so he knew what she meant by that, and like hell if he was going to let her kill the hellhound and put her life in danger.

“Two days--then we do it my way.” Dean unzips his bag, taking his clothes back out. 

“And what does that mean?” Y/n responds, her hands on her hips. It was her signature look of disapproval. She was stubborn, just like him and just like Sam. Dean knew at some point, this was going to turn into one hell of a Mexican stand-off.

“Don’t worry about it, alright? We should go to sleep, be there when the Cassitys arrive tomorrow.”

“Fine. Be that way.” She huffs at him, moving to the top bed of the empty bunk. Sam was settling into the bottom bed of the bunk he and Dean were going to share. But Dean wasn’t a fan of her moving to the top. That was going to keep him from being able to sneak up next to her later that night, which just confirmed to him that yeah, she was pissed. He moved to the bed underneath her and waited, as everyone’s breathing slowed, still awake and reflecting about it all. When he was sure Sam was asleep, he climbed the ladder to the top bunk.

“Y/n?” He whispered. She didn’t stir. He poked her in the side, and she grunted in irritation.

“Wha?”

“Scoot your ass.”

“There’s no room for you. Go away.”

“Move or I’m laying on you.” She takes a moment to consider the ultimatum, and as Dean climbs up and onto her, she moves, allowing him to settle next to her. She puts her back to him, but he doesn’t mind, opting to wrap his arms around her, positioning them right below her breast. He fights the urge to grab her everywhere, feeling it would be in very poor taste, what with Sammy down on the bottom bunk. She stiffens under his grip, tense. Dean can tell she’s weighing the option between allowing him to stay or probably to use her magic to turn him into a frog, a threat she had used once before. He had thought she was kidding, until she had shown him the spell in that little grimoire she carried.

He sighs, knowing what she was looking for. “I’m sorry.” He says, begrudgingly. 

“For?” She eggs him on. She was never one to let him slide, on anything. 

“I’m going to protect you, always. You know that right?”

“You can’t get mad at me for wanting to do the same, Dean Winchester.” He kisses her on the back of her neck and her body relaxes. He settles, his nose in her hair, as they both fall asleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the Cassitys had arrived. There was an older man in a suit and bolo tie named Noah, the father. Margot was the youngest of his daughters, who seemed shy and reserved. Then Cindy, the middle who looked like a stereotypical blonde bitch. Turns out that that was exactly what she was. 

Ellie had assigned each person a job. Dean would be cooking on the grill outside, Sam would be serving drinks and food, and you, who had told Ellie you were a pretty good cook, could be making the sides, while she ran everything. You got to work making corn bread, mashed potatoes, beans, and corn on the cob in the kitchen, while everyone else got to work cleaning and prepping. 

The Cassitys had eaten most of the food in silence. Dean was still outside; Ellie had asked him to finish grilling the rest of the meat. Ellie and Sam were clearing the table while you finished preparing dessert. You were actually pretty surprised by how calm the dinner had been. The way Ellie had described the family, you were expecting an all out brawl in the middle of the dining room. 

“Right. She’s a prostitute who looks like a child.” Cindy says loudly, her words slurring. Spoke too soon. Margot raises her voice to tell Cindy to quit it, but Cindy just bites back. If you had learned anything after living with Bobby for twenty-one years, it was don’t fight a mean drunk, and Cindy seemed like the meanest. You exchange looks with Sam as he walks by you, his hands full with dirty plates. Your eyes widen as Cindy tells Alice that their little sister had slept with Carl years ago. Sam’s head cocks at you before he returns to grab the last of the plates from the table.

“Are they always like this?” Sam asks.

“More or less.” Ellie responds, shrugging her shoulder. You couldn’t imagine fighting like that with Dean and Sam, being that mean and spiteful to one another. 

“How can you work here?” He asks, opening up what must have been the fourth bottle of wine that night. You finished putting cool whip around the pumpkin pie, setting it down next to them.

“I love the property, I love the animals, and I tune out the people.” 

“They’re kind of hard to tune out.” You say to her, before setting the pie down on the dinner table, doing your best not to lock eyes with any of the vultures sitting there. They’re talking about a traveling salesman, a man named Crowley. The second they say his name, you look up at Sam. A look of recognition crosses his face as he stares, wideyed, at you. This was the guy Dean and Sam had told you about, the new King of Hell who used to be a crossroads demon. You click your head towards the door, telling Sam to go tell Dean the news. 

You were about to go and follow when Ellie grabs your arm, telling you that she needs help with the dishes. You let Sam go off on his own, hoping those two dummies don’t get themselves into trouble, and move to the sink to wash. After a few minutes, Sam heads back inside. Ellie had left you in the kitchen to clean the rest of the dishes, saying she had work to do elsewhere. You figured she had just taken off early to sleep, probably tired of listening to the Cassitys bicker.

“What did Dean say?”

“He got a call from Kevin. Anything scorched with Holy Fire can expose a hellhound.”

“That’s great!” You whisper back excitedly. “But do you got any?” Hoping they had some in that fantastic trunk of Dean’s car.

“Dean went to whip us up some x-ray vision. Hopefully he can find some spare glasses lying around. Where’s Ellie?”

“Probably got sick of them,” You indicate your head towards the Cassitys, who had moved into the dining room. “Do me a favor, they finished dessert. Can you clear the table and bring me the rest of the dishes?”

“Sure.”

“Have you talked to Dean about the trials?” You ask, when Sam drops the dishes off next to you. 

“No. You?” You shake your head in response. “He still seems determined to do it himself.”

“Yeah. Does Dean normally get like that? Really gung ho, doesn’t stop to breathe? Because I remember him being impatient, but this is totally new.” You’re concerned. Dean had always been a bit dark. It was part of his allure. But recently, you started noticing that he always seemed upset. When he wasn’t talking to you, he was looking off into the distance, his eyes angry and sad at the same time. The brothers told you a bit about what you had missed over the years, but you feel like they had kept hidden the more gruesome parts of the story. 

“He’s been like this the past couple years. With so many near apocalypses, things have gotten a little more...intense.”

“Oh, look. Daddy’s drunk and armed. Must be Christmas.” Ciindy yells from the dining room. You and Sam look out the window and see Noah and Margot armed with rifles. 

“Watch them.” Sam tells you, running out the dining room. 

“Don’t leave me!” You hiss out after him, but too late. You just smile awkwardly at Cindy, who drunkenly cocks an eyebrow at you.

“You gonna keep washing?” She slurs out. 

“Right. Yeah. Dishes.” You get back to the task at hand, pissed that you were left behind by both brothers. They better not do something stupid without you. 

 

Dean comes into the dining room, cocking his head at Cindy and Alice, before walking to you. He puts his hand around your waist and gives you a kiss on the cheek. It’s tender and sweet. Too sweet.

“What did you do?” You put the plate down and turn the water off, before spinning around to look at him.

“What? What are you talking about?” He asks, throwing his hands up in the air, laughing uncomfortably, a guilty look in his eye. 

“I know that move. That’s a ‘honey, I fucked up move.’ You’re normally more aggressive. What did you do?” You explain, and he sighs. _Busted._ And your hands are on your hips, one cocked out and your tongue in your cheek, waiting.

“I didn’t do anything. I said no.” Your eyebrow raises and he continues in a whisper as he notices Cindy is looking over at you both nosily. “Ellie ... may have asked me for sex. But I told her no and that I was already seeing you.” 

“Oh. That’s it? Why did you seem so guilty then?” You laugh it off, turning back to the dishes. He’s sputtering awkwardly, unsure of how to answer that. You answer for him, realizing it. “You felt guilty because if it weren’t for me, you would have considered it right?”

“What?”

“Ellie is very pretty Dean, I’m not blind. Plus, she’s strong, independent, and aggressive. Just your type.”

“I said no.”

“And that’s why you’re still going to get lucky if we can get through the night alive.” You turn around and wink at him. He has a goofy smile on his face. 

The door slams open, causing you to jump in surprise, your hand going straight to the knife you had strapped to your belt, the hilt hidden under your shirt. Sam runs in with Noah, shutting the door behind them. Noah is stuttering and upset. Both men are breathing hard, having run from the woods. You put the dishes down and walk over to Sam, Dean following close behind you. 

“Where’s Margot?” You ask, noticing that the youngest Cassity is not with them.

“Dead.” Sam replies. Noah moves into the living room with his other daughters, all of them looking upset. “We shouldn’t talk here.” Sam moves to another room down the hallway, you and Dean following behind.

“What the hell happened Sam. I told you to watch them.” Dean barks.

“I did! But Noah and Margot went out in the woods. Y/n stayed behind to watch Alice and Cindy and I followed Noah and Margot. They went to go hunt the wolf that killed Carl. I couldn’t talk them out of it.”

“It’s alright Sam. How did Margot die?” You reassure him. 

“I heard a branch break, so I went off to investigate. I was gone for a couple seconds, Noah almost shot me, and then we heard Margot scream. By the time I’d gotten to her, a hellhound had ripped out her throat. I shot at it. Not sure if it’s dead though.”

“And you’re sure it was a hellhound?” You ask. 

“Yeah Y/n. You don’t exactly mistake an invisible hound for a wolf.” He says, angrily.

“Hey, I’m not the bad guy here.” You snap back.

“The both of you, quit it.” Dean barks the order. “We gotta talk to the family. Figure out which one of those dumbasses made a deal with a demon.”

The three of you enter the living room. When Noah asks what happened, Dean bluntly tells them that a hellhound had killed Margot. He tells them everything about Crowley having been a demon, asking which of the three had sold their soul. All three deny having sold their souls, Cindy the most hostile of the three. When no one answers, Dean looks to you and Sam and says, “Alright, seal ‘em in.” Alice becomes upset.

“Look, I’m gonna spread goofer dust around the doors, windows, that will keep the hellhound out for a while.” Sam explains, heading to the Impala to grab the supplies.

“How long?” Noah asks, nervous.

“Long enough for me to stab it in its throat.” Dean answers. _Or me._ You think to yourself. Noah starts to protest, telling Dean he can’t do this. Dean pulls a gun out, telling him that he absolutely could. You step back from him, surprised that he’d pull a gun. 

“Dean.” You try to calm him down.

“Shush Y/N. Listen up buddy, I’m the best. See I gut old yeller out there, and maybe - just maybe - you walk away. I don’t - you’re meat. So, sit down,” he points the gun right at Noah, Cindy and Alice recoil in fear, “shut up, and put these on.” He pulls handcuffs out of his jacket pocket. Sam comes back in with the bags of goofer dust, handing them to you. He looks around, seeing the tension on the Cassity’s faces, and then to the gun in Dean’s hand. 

“Dean, let me handle that.” Sam says, exchanging the dust for the handcuffs. Sam handcuffs the family to the tables while you and Dean spread dust around the windows and doors, making a protective barrier around the place. It felt so different from when you and Dean had salted the Prince house in South Dakota. You’d never seen Dean so angry before. Sam lectures the Cassitys on the effects of a hellhound being near. Dean moves up next to Sam as you finish spreading dust on the other glass doors.

“And when one of you starts bugging out, we'll know who's on tap to be puppy chow.” Dean interjects, before rolling his eyes and walking away to finish spreading the dust. You and Sam walk over to him.

“So...what's our play?” Sam asks.

“Well, you camp here, figure out who whored their soul. I'm gonna go scout the grounds – see if I can't gank Huckleberry Hound before he makes his next move.” Dean walks out of the living room and back into the dining room. 

“I’m going with you!” You and Sam call out together. 

“Wrong.” He says, not even looking you in the eye. Sam places his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean, they’re on lockdown and you need backup.” When Dean tries to protest, Sam insists that he does.

“No, I need you and Y/n to be safe, Sam, okay? That's what I need.”

“What? What am I – when are we ever safe?”

“This is different.” He says softly, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“How?”

“Because of the three trials crap – God's little obstacle course. We've been down roads like this before, man – with Yellow-Eyes, Lucifer, Dick friggin' Roman. We both know where this ends – one of us dies... Or worse.” He says casually, causing you to get angry. You push Sam out of the way a bit.

“What gives you the right to decide that you get to die, huh Dean? Did you think I’d be okay with that?”

“I’m a grunt y/n. Sam, he’s always been the brains of this operation. And you…” He looks at you, an emotion in his eyes that puts butterflies in your stomach and douses the flames of anger, just a bit, “The world is better with you in it.”

“Dean, let me do it. You and Sam, you’re both too important to the world. You two are a team, together you are unstoppable, but me, I just joined this rodeo. And I’m a witch! Not only am I expendable because I’m a monster, but I’ve got the mojo to actually have a chance of surviving this.”

“You are not a monster Y/n, and you aren’t doing this! You and Sam, you’re both going to live long lives and grow old, but me, I’m gonna die with a gun in my hand. That’s no life for either of you.”

“So what, you get together with Y/n and then leave her? You have a chance to get out. I chose to come here, I chose to leave Amelia. But you can be with Y/n, you can have kids, grandkids, and live, hunting normal things instead of monsters, because you deserve it Dean. So you aren’t going to do those trials. I am going to them. And you’re going to stay here with Y/n and _you_ are going to watch the Cassitys.” Sam yells, getting into Dean’s space. He is pissed, his nostrils flaring, but then he calms down. 

“Y/n, I need to talk to my brother alone, just for a second.” Dean says calmly. 

“Nu’uh. I leave you alone and you rush off on your own. No way.”

“Please!” He yells as his eyes shut. You start, but the urgency in his eyes, the pain in his face, you let it go and sit down on the coffee table in front of Alice.

“What, can’t play with the big boys?” Cindy asks as she’s splayed out on the couch.

“They’re fighting over who gets to be the macho man and die while I play damsel in distress. Men.” You spit out.

“I hear ya.” She smiles at you. You laugh bitterly, not being able to help it. You thought Cindy was going to say something more snarky, not agree with you. But the bitch was pretty plastered at this point.

Dean walks over to you after the brothers spend a couple minutes talking. He looks far more calm than before. He places a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry about before. You’re right.” You smile at him, almost sadly. He hands you a pair of glasses. “Here, these will help you see the hounds.” You put them down and place a hand gently on his cheek, feeling the stubble prick your palm. You were going to miss that cheek. He smiles back and leans in to kiss you. Normally, you’d be a bit more mortified, what with the Cassitys right there, but you let him deepen it. Then you hear the sound of cuffs closing.

“Dean Winchester!” You break the kiss and look down at your wrist, where the silver of a handcuff shows.

“I’m sorry baby. But I can’t let you die tonight. Sam is going to stay here and watch you. I’ll be back.” He walks out the door and Sam comes into the room, apologetic and ashamed. 

“Dean!” You call after him. You try and pull at the cuffs, but the table doesn’t budge. It’s made of stone and tile and metal and isn’t easy to move. “Sam, let me go, now.”

“I can’t Sis. Dean said to keep you here.” He tries not to look at you as he puts the glasses on and looks outside.

“Drama!” 

“Shut up Cindy.” You snap at her, which only causes her to giggle. You look at the handcuffs and call upon your magic to force it to unlock, but nothing happens. You examine the metal and find a symbol carved into it, a rune against magic. _Why the hell does Dean have handcuffs that are warded against magic?_ You think to yourself. Thankfully, you are also smart enough to break the ward if you need to. You sit there, pouring magic into the ward as the Cassitys bicker over who sold their soul to Crowley. You try and block them out. Every ward has a weakness, a capacity, just like your hex bags. If you can break through its capacity, you can break the ward and break the cuffs. If Dean Winchester thinks he can take you out of the equation like that, he has another thing coming. He wasn’t an I anymore, he was a we. And you had a right to put your life in danger just as much as- _Bingo!_

The rune on the cuffs cracks in half, and with a flick of your fingers, the cuffs snap open, freeing you. Sam is distracted, looking outside, so you take that opportunity to run, opening the front door. You could hear snarling. You try to position the glasses to see, and you could almost make out a clear figure with red eyes, off near the woods. 

“Holy shit!”

“Y/n!” You hear Sam’s voice and turn towards it to see him chasing after you. You ignore him and look back, the hellhound gone. 

“Go back to the house Sam!”

“No way.”

“You can’t force me back either.” You turn back to face him, your hands out at your side, ready for him. He has his rifle in his hand, and when he sees the intensity in your face, he lowers it.

“Then we find Dean, together.” He calls to you. You lower your hands as well and then pull out your knife.

“Fine by me. Let’s go save Dean.” You both hear a howl in the distance and strain to listen from which direction it came from. There’s another howl and angry barking, deep and demonic. 

“That’s coming from the stables.” Sam says, and you both run there as quick as you can. As you get closer, the sounds of a struggle can be heard and the horses are neighing loudly. You hear Dean scream out as if he’d been hit. You and Sam break out into sprints. A million fears race through your head. He can’t die there. He can’t die before you tell that stupid moron off for going off without you. He can’t die before you tell that asshole how you feel. 

You both run into the stable, and there’s Dean, on the floor, shaking in fear and weaponless, as a large, almost pit bull-like entity stands over him, ready to pounce. As you call for the magic to push the hound off of him, Sam raises his pistol and takes two shots. The hound whines in pain, blood pouring out from the wound. 

“Dean!” You run over to him and try to hold him up. He winces in pain and you can see blood on his hand. You look up and see Sam roll towards the knife Dean must have dropped on the floor. The hellhound jumps towards him and you throw your hand out, throwing the hellhound back and away from Sam so that he can grab the knife. As you do so, you feel the energy in you drain. You had expended a lot of magic trying to break the ward on the handcuffs. 

The hellhound recovers quickly and attacks Sam, jumping on top of him and trying to bite at him, barking loudly. But you couldn’t let Sam get hurt. You throw your hand out to try and push the hound off, but only manage to throw it off balance, giving Sam the opportunity to plunge the knife into the hound’s belly, gutting it as black blood spills all over. 

“Sam.” You whine out. It wasn’t supposed to be him. Dean is in your arms, both of your hands pressed over his side to stop the bleeding from where he had been slashed by hellhound claws. Both men are breathing hard, and Dean grimaces in pain, before collapsing into your hands. Sam drops the knife, and with great efforts, turns himself over and almost crawls towards you.

“Sam, he’s really hurt. I need your help carrying him.” 

“Yeah.” He grabs Dean’s free arm and lifts as you push up from under his other arm. You place your free hand on the tear, which causes him to wince. You both half drag, half carry him out of the barn, adrenaline being the only thing that pushes you on. Ellie runs out of her cabin as you move closer.

“The hallucinations stopped. Is he dead?” She asks, out of breath, looking at Dean.

“No. I need a needle, thread, and bandages. Now.” You bark at her. She nods at you and runs off towards another facility, probably where they keep the first aid kit. You and Sam drag him into Ellie’s room, and place him down on her bed. 

“Hey, you with me Dean?” You say, looking him in the face, patting his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” He says, his words breathy, as if even talking hurts.

“I’m going to take your shirt off so I can get to that wound okay. It’s gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.” He nods at you as you slip the jacket off. Then you pull his shirt over his head, and he cries out softly in pain. The slash marks are deep, definitely going to be needing stitches. Blood is still pouring out, but if you can stave off infection, he’ll be okay. He’ll have one hell of a scar though. Sam is watching from behind you, his hands crossed, still a little shaken from what happened. You don’t blame him. If you had been the one to bathe in hellhound blood, you were sure the roles would have been reversed.

“This isn’t how I expected this night to go.” He said, half chuckling. 

“What do you mean?”

“When I pictured you undressing me, I didn’t think it’d be like this.” Sam laughs behind you, muttering “gross” under his breath.

“If you’ve got time to flirt, you’re going to be okay.” Ellie coughs behind you, looking awkward as she stands in her own doorway, the supplies in her hands. You wave her in and grab the kit. In your peripheral, as you prep everything, you can see Ellie staring at the wound, but also at Dean’s chest. 

“Here, if you’re going to stay, help.” You tell her, a little angry. Dean was yours, and even though you know it wasn’t Ellie’s fault because she didn’t know, you didn’t appreciate another woman flirting with your man. You give her the stuff as you pour alcohol on the strips of fabric.

“Dean, _honey_ , this is going to hurt. A lot.”

“Do it.” He looks away, balling his fist into the sheets of the bed, as you get to work disinfecting the wound. He’s pretty good at keeping the pain in, only letting out breaths of air, and yelling the occasional profanity. You then move on to stitching the skin back together and bandaging his side. When you finish, you help him put his shirt and jacket on. You make a point to kiss him, deeply, once you’re done. When you stop, you take a look with your peripherals and you’re happy to see that Ellie is red in the face. 

“So, what now?” She asks, looking at you, instead of Dean. But Dean is the one who answers as he stands up from the bed.

 

“Now Y/n makes a hex bag, and you start running. If Crowley can't find you, then he won't be able to sic another mutt on you.”

“Easy enough. I’m pretty sure I found the spell a couple nights ago when I was doing research. All the supplies are probably in the Impala.” You tell Dean.

“So I'm not going to hell?” Ellie asks, almost disbelieving.

“Not on my watch.”

“Our watch.” You correct, Dean throwing a smile back at you and agreeing. 

“Will you give us a minute?” He asks, turning to Ellie. She nods and leaves. When the door closes, Dean looks irritated as he snaps his fingers towards Sam.

“Dean, even if she can dodge Crowley, as soon as Ellie dies, her soul is earmarked for hell.” Sam responds. 

 

“Not if we shut it down first.” Dean says, grabbing the button down shirt Sam had been wearing, but was now drenched in hellhound blood. You just watch, feeling sorry for Dean. 

“The spell's not gonna work for you, Dean.” Sam tells him. Dean just signs, pulling the paper with the spell out of his pocket. He recites the spell, but nothing happens except a deeper silence.

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll track down another hellhound, and I will kill it.” 

“We don’t have time for that Dean!” You yell at him. 

“I didn’t pass the test.” He looks to you, angry.

“But I did… And I’m doing the rest of them.” Sam says.

“My ass you are!” He says, his head whipping towards Sam.

“I’m closing the gates. It’s a suicide mission for you.” Dean tries to protest, “No. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. Y/n! I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it.”

“Sam, be smart.” He says, upset by Sam’s words. You’re also hurt by the realization that Sam is right. Despite Dean caring about you, he really did seem empty enough to want to die. 

“I am smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.” Sam pleas. You walk over to Dean, grabbing his right arm which holds the paper.

“Dean, listen to Sam. Let him do this. I just got you back. I’m not ready to lose this and you shouldn’t be so easy in giving it up. I,” You take a deep breath, “I love you Dean. I want you to get through all of this too. Trust Sam, please.” He looks down at you. You don’t know what emotion is behind his eyes. You had just told Dean Winchester that you loved him. You said those words. And in front of his brother! You felt small under his gaze. He sighs, closing his eyes. You let go of his arm and he slams the paper in Sam’s hand, then slips it around your waist. 

Sam reads the paper. _“Kah-nuh-ahm-dahr._ ” There's a whooshing sound. Sam goes bug eyed, twists around, and falls to the floor in pain. 

“Sammy?” Dean calls out, concerned. But you know that pain. That was the pain of a spell whose magic was using the life energy of the caster, what most of your spells were. But this spell was draining Sam, fast and in large quantity. There’s a faint light radiating from his person, but you’re not sure from where.

 

“You okay?” Dean asks again as Sam’s gasping slows down and his breathing becomes normal.

“I’m good. I’m okay. I can do this.” He says, exhaling sharply and turning to look at you both. But you aren’t fooled by it. Sam was not okay, and if each spell was going to do that, you fear what could happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story guys! This was a fun episode to write. I did quite a bit of research. 
> 
> I realized I had some minor continuity errors, so I'm going back and fixing them as we go. 
> 
> Also, my husband is forcing me to enjoy my birthday next week and is taking me camping. No wifi, so I won't be posting chapter 15 until January 31st, but to make up for it, it's all FLUFF. To give you a little hint of what's to come, the first trial takes place on February 10th in the show (or the 9th...) and Valentine's Day is just around the corner! ;) 
> 
> Good night lovelies!


	15. Chapter 15: The Magic of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the pure fluff my beautiful readers!   
> I know Squibbles94 did!

It had been the most awkward Impala drive of your life, leaving the Cassity Ranch. Dean had stopped by to check on Kevin first, driving straight through the night. The only time anyone had spoken was to tell Dean that he should pull over to rest, but he said he was fine and you and Sam were both silent. Everyone was mad at each other. You and Dean were mad at Sam for being the one to take the trials. Sam was mad at Dean for not trusting in him. Dean was mad at you for convincing him to let Sam be. And you were pissed as all hell at Dean for handcuffing you, and having those handcuffs in the first place. 

Kevin had sensed the tension, but when he tried to ask what was wrong, all three of you told him that everything was fine. He was a little taken back by the aggression you all showed. When Dean had seen that Kevin was fine, he told him to keep up the good work so that we could continue on to the next trial, and then had gone out to the Impala. Dean hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, and despite being mad at him, you felt real bad. The man looked awful. Well, not awful. He still looked pretty damn beautiful, but his eyes were bloodshot and there were purple bags under them. As he put the key in to unlock the driver’s seat, you placed your hand over his.

“Dean, you need to sleep. Let me drive.”

“I’m fine.” He snapped.

“We’re not going to get through this if you run us off the road. Let me.” Dean rarely let anyone drive Baby, so you weren’t surprised when he hesitated. But he let go of the keys, allowing you to open it, and then moved to the back seat. “Lay back and sleep. I’ve got it from here, ok?” You try to say, softly. He only grunts in response. You sit in the driver seat, putting the key into the ignition. Sam sits next to you in the passenger seat. After about an hour, you can hear Dean snoring in the back seat.

“How are you feeling Sam?” You ask at the halfway mark.

“Good.”

“You’re a liar. I’m a witch. I know the strain magic can put on your body.” Your eyes are still on the road, but you can see Sam tense in your peripherals. You watch as he looks back, to check that Dean is still sleeping.

“I feel fine now, a bit tired. But it definitely hurt in the beginning.”

“I think I have a tonic for that. I’ll make it when we get back to the bunker.”

“Thanks Sis. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize Sam. I should be apologizing. I shouldn’t be mad at you for taking on the trials. You’re off the hook little bro.” He chuckles at you.

“I’m not so little anymore Y/n.”

“You’ll always be that kid I played with Sam. You and me against the world.” You put a fist out, one hand on the wheel. He bumps it with his fist, smiling at you. It hit you then just how much you loved these brothers; familial love with Sam and pure, unadulterated romantic love for Dean. And you were going to do everything in your power to make sure Sam made it through these trials and that Gates get closed with as little collateral damage as possible. 

You pull up to the bunker’s entrance and now that you’re home, you can finally wallow in your anger. You’ve had a long drive to sit and stew and reflect, and after all of that, you’re even more pissed about what Dean had done. WIthout looking back, you head straight to your room, closing the door behind you and crashing onto your bed. You’re exhausted and frustrated, having slept uncomfortably in the Impala. You hear movement behind your door and can see the shadow of footsteps under them. You sit up, half of you hoping he comes in, half of you wishing he would just walk away. The doorknob turns for a second, but in a moment of second guessing, he lets go and walks away. You sigh and look at your dad’s picture and wonder how this would be different if he were still around. You close your eyes and sleep. 

\------------------------------------------

You cross February 12 off your calendar. You leave your room and grab a cup of coffee and a poptart from the kitchen, before heading to the library to grab a few spell books. You are moving as quick as you can, as you’ve been avoiding Dean since you had been back, for almost the two days. You take the books and food back to your room, juggling everything in your hands. A few of the books are focused on finding the contraceptive spell and a few to find something to help Sam’s feeling of exhaustion. You had heard about a tonic or tea that could help combat the draining of magic. You have several books open around you while you’re on the floor, writing notes and keeping track of what you find, your cup of coffee to the side to keep them from spilling. You finally find the contraceptive spell when there’s a knock on the door.

“Busy!” You yell back, a feeling that it was Dean. You were still fuming at him, since only two days had passed and neither of you had spoken. Not to mention the fact that you had told him you loved him, and he hadn’t said anything back or anything since then. The door opens, and there is Dean Winchester, standing at your door. 

“I said I was busy.” But he doesn’t respond, instead choosing to close the door behind him. 

“We need to talk.” He says to you, his face is solemn and unreadable. There’s a small part of you, the part that isn’t angry, that is scared that he’s about to tell you that you should both break up, that having sex and getting together was a huge mistake. After all, “we need to talk” was always the famous last words before a break up happens. 

“Fine, talk.” You snap, putting aside your notes and books, crossing your arms. For now, you were letting anger take the wheel and told fear to shut up. 

“I understand why you’re angry with me…” He began.

“Oh, do you Dean? Really?”

“Yeah, alright. I shouldn’t have cuffed you to the table, but I’m not sorry I did it.” He says, his voice a little louder.

“Dean, you didn’t just cuff me to a table. You tricked me and cuffed me to a table with a pair of anti-magic handcuffs. You carved a damn rune into it to stop me from using magic to break out!” You yell, standing up from the floor. Your hands are balled into fists at your side. A rune and iron, two things that can halt the ability to use your magic. 

“I know!” He yells back, his hand whipping through his hair. 

“No, you don’t know. You took my choice away from me! You know how important that is for me!”

“I did it to protect you!”

“Last time I checked, I don’t need protecting! I have done just fine on my own for the past ten years!”

“It’s different this time.”

“Why? Because now we’re dealing with angels? Because you and I are sleeping together? No. It’s not different Dean. I can take care of myself. But you’ve always been like this. The big macho man with a martyr complex who can’t let anyone take the fall. But rather than discuss it, rather than go through this as a team, as a couple, you took my choice away from me. And you walked towards a suicide mission without any regard towards my feelings! Do you know how hurt I would have been if you had died that night?”

“At least you would have been alive.” He tells you. You weren’t getting through to him with this, so you change gears.

“Why the hell did you have those handcuffs?”

“We made them a few years back, for witches, just in case. Like the demon traps, it’s just for interrogation purposes.”

“That’s not what I meant. Why the hell did you have those handcuffs with you.” That little part of you that feared he was planning on breaking up with you also called to you, getting bigger, whispering, he still doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust a witch. He doesn’t trust a monster. He mumbles something that you don’t catch.

“What was that?” 

“I said, they were for later!” He doesn’t look at you. He looks anywhere but at you and the cogs in your head start to turn until, click. 

“You brought anti-magic handcuffs to a case as a sex toy?” You couldn’t believe it. 

“I thought it would be good to try, and I knew if I had regular handcuffs, you would have broken through them too easily, which defeats the purpose. So I thought I’d bring the anti-magic ones. And I was going to tell you I had them, I swear.”

“So you were planning on using them on me.”

“Only for sex though!” He tries, desperately.

“Not because you’re afraid of me?”

“What? No. No! I trust you Y/N. I told you that. I trust you with my life.”

“But you don’t Dean. Because if you did, you would have let me help you.” You whisper, the fight suddenly leaving you.

“No, no baby. That’s not it. I want you safe. I want you alive.” He walks to you, his hand on your cheek. You grab it though, no wanting that kind of contact just yet. You grab his hands and look him in the eye.

“It’s not living if you aren’t there with me, Dean. I told you, I love you. I just wish you cared enough to let me fight with you.” You drop his hand and turn away from him, the discussion over. He sighs and walks away, closing the door behind you. After crying for a bit, you get back to work, using the distraction. You are able to find a tonic that will help bolster Sam’s spirit energy, to keep him from being so physically drained when he casts the next spell. You are also able to find a shop in the area that sells all the ingredients you need for both spells, so you take care of that as well. It was nice, keeping your mind distracted. You weren’t really sure where you and Dean stood, unsure if you were still together or not. It was hard to say. You didn’t want it to be over, but you realized that they way you had spoken to him made it feel a lot like a break-up. 

“Stupid. Stupid Stupid.” You say to yourself, banging your forehead against your steering wheel outside the bunker. But you had said your peace. For now, you didn’t really feel like pushing another heart to heart. Dean was never really good at those. 

The next day, your plan was to still brew the two potions, just in case. When you went to the kitchen to start, Sam was in there. 

“Morning.” You call to him. He raises his cup of coffee to you.

“Morning. Hey, you and Dean okay?”

“Okay is a very rocky choice of words Sam. I honestly have no clue where we stand.” You move through the kitchen, grabbing the pots that will substitute for a cauldron. You really did like using a cast iron cauldron more than a metal pot, but you’d make do. 

“He seemed upset this morning. He left in a rush.”

“Dean’s not here?” 

“No. When I asked him what was up, he just said he was going to “show us we were wrong.” Not sure exactly what on.”

“It’s Dean. He always thinks he’s right and everyone else is wrong. How are you feeling, Sammy?”

“Same old. Still a little tired.” 

“This should help.” You decide to make his tonic first. You boil some water and throw in the herbal ingredients: rosemary, sunflower seeds, chamomile, and daisies. All of these represented the sun. You hope that by invoking the sun’s power, the masculine force, you can bolster’s Sam’s own spiritual energy. Sam asks you what you’re doing, and you explain that to him. You then start praying in old Greek, which is the language the spell was in, calling upon the powers of Apollo to guide you. The potion turns a deep yellow as you stir.

“Good color!” You then take frankincense and burn it over the pot, trying to keep all the power of the ingredients from spilling out. You then go to grab a clove of garlic, crushing it, and poor the juice into the mixture.

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Garlic helps heal. Putting a little garlic in the tea will give you strength.” You tell him. You understand his hesitance. Garlic with flowers in a tea, probably not going to taste so good. You grab a little honey and poor some of it in as well.

“And the honey?”

“Flavor. Try and mask the garlic.” You finish the rest of the incantation and the color lightens to an almost clear yellow. “Perfect. Alright Sam, drink this every morning outside in the sun for the best effect.” You poor a cup for him and hand it over. He sniffs it, turning his nose.

“Still smells like garlic.”

“Don’t be a baby. You want to get better?” He takes a tentative sip and makes a face.

“It tastes like honey and garlic!”

“Drink it!” You tell him, like a mother to her defiant son. You tip the cup up, so that he has no choice but to drink it. 

“That is disgusting.”

“It’s good for you, even if it doesn’t taste good. Every morning Sam Winchester.” You tell him, waggling your finger at him.

“You’re so bossy.” He chuckles at you, leaving the kitchen and heading to, you assume, the library.

“That’s what older sisters are for!” You yell back. You wash out the pot and put it back onto the stove to boil another pot of water. You then grab a mortar and pestle and grind wild carrot seeds, thistle, and stoneseed root until it’s a fine powder. You throw in the ingredients along with a shot of whiskey and stir. 

“With one mind, I send thee back. With one heart, we cannot be. Oh child of the spirit, depart this world, we are not ready. As I wish it, so mote shall it be.” The water turns a deep purple as per the instructions in the book. It’s based off an old Native American recipe, adapted by Wiccans, according to the introductory text. It should help, but it’s meant for after, rather than before. Your poor the mixture into mason jars, closing them with wax paper and rubber bands, and set them down on a counter, sprinkling salt on the covers to rest for a few hours. 

It’s about mid-day and you’re helping Sam go through the catalog of the Men of Letters paper and updating the information you had all recently been given when the door to the bunker opens. You both look up and Dean walks in with a couple bags and a long box. 

“What do you have there?” You call out to him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says gruffly, coming downstairs. 

“Fine. I’m going to prep dinner then.” You slam the book you were reading shut and storm into the kitchen. If Dean wanted to keep fighting, then fine. You had told the boys yesterday exactly where you were going and what you were getting. Dean might be upset, but he could return the favor. 

You move around the kitchen, boiling pasta and making a tomato sauce, from scratch, and cooking some beef on a pan. Spaghetti with meat sauce was pretty doable with what the kitchen had in stock. You add a little flavor to the sauce by chopping some onions, garlic, and peppers, throwing them in and letting it boil in the tomato sauce. You liked cooking a lot and realized you hadn’t done much of it the past month. You’d always been pretty good at it, which lent to being a pretty good witch too. Potion making and cooking were pretty similar. You found your mood lightening as you work, the same as it did that morning when you were making the potions. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Dean’s voice calls from the door to your left, the one that led from the rooms. 

“More of this. Research. Why?”

“Just curious. Listen, I’m going to eat in my room tonight. Is the food ready?”

“Yeah.” You answer, a little thrown off by his uncaring attitude.

“Cool.” He grabs a bowl, throws some pasta and sauce into it, and then walks out. Sam comes in from the other door to see Dean leave.

“Now what?”

“Ya know what Sammy, I have no flippen idea.” You both eat and get back to research, but Dean is constantly on the back of your mind. 

\------------------------------------------------------

“Rise and shine twinkle toes!” Dean yells, waking you from your sleep.

“What the hell Dean?” You sit up and see he’s carrying a tray with what looks like pancakes, eggs, and bacon. There’s also a small wildflower on the tray. “What’s going on?”

“Valentine’s Day.” He puts the tray down. There’s a small square of butter and syrup already on the pancakes. You grab a fork and knife, staring at Dean as you take a bit, a little weirded out by the gesture. 

“Last time you were this nice to me, you told me that you’d blown up my Barbie Dream House. What gives?”

“You and Sam seem to think that I don’t care. That ain’t true. I do. So today, I’m going to prove it to you. I made you both breakfast today. I’m going to take Sam out for a little brother bonding hunting trip, normal one, in the woods and then you and I are going out tonight.”

“Dean, that isn’t what we meant.” You try to protest.

“Don’t want to hear it. Eat your breakfast. I’ll see you later tonight.” He pats your shoulder and walks out of the room, leaving you sitting in bed, very confused. You and Sam had tried to tell him it didn’t seem like he thought he was worth living, but he must have translated it to that you both didn’t think he cared about you. You knew Dean cared about your lives, it was his own that you were concerned with. That and the fact that he never let either of you make any decisions. You just shook your head though and ate. How Dean decides to process this is his own. Maybe he’ll come to terms with things and move on. 

A little after two thirty in the afternoon, Dean and Sam come back from hunting. They’d only been gone a few hours and from the looks of things, didn’t kill anything. They were mostly out bonding, probably talking crap, drinking, and such. It was good to see them a little more comfortable than before. Dean looks at you and then walks straight to his room without even pausing for a hello.

“Is he upset with me?” You ask Sam, who sits down with a smile on his face.

“No. You’ll see.”

“Spill it Sammy.”

“No way.” He winks at you and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“You look better.”

“I feel better. That potion of yours is really doing the trick.”

“It pays to have a witch around.” You click your tongue arrogantly, thumbing your nose, which causes him to laugh. Dean walks out and puts the box on the table over your book.

“Go put that on for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, there’s a dress code where we’re going.” You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t protest, grabbing the box. He also has a pair of black strappy heels in hand. “These should match.”

“What are you playing at Winchester?” You ask, snatching the shoes out of his hand, squinting at him suspiciously.

“Valentine’s Day baby.” You go to your room and open the box. When you pull the tissue paper off, there’s a beautiful, long, black velvet dress that looked like it had been pulled straight out of the 30s. Technically, the dress could be classified as sleeveless, as the black fabric stopped at the breast, where it makes almost a heart shape. But the evening gown did have sleeves. It was a short sleeve, lightly beaded top, mostly black thread that still showed off your neckline. It was real damn classy and you couldn’t help but be impressed by Dean’s choice. You smile a bit. You couldn’t just put the dress on and call it quits. With something like this, you had to put a bit more effort into it. 

You grab your makeup bag, which is sorely lacking to say the least, and try to put a semblance of color into your face. Nothing too crazy, but just enough where you feel that you’ve maximized your beauty. As you walk out of the bathroom, Dean walks by, and you try to cover your face.

“No peeking!” There’s a bit of excitement building in you.

“How long does it take to put on a dress?”

“Dress like that, I gotta do my hair and makeup. Be patient. I’m almost done.”

“Alright, fine. I’m going to go get dressed then.” He walks off and you follow behind, making sure he doesn’t turn around, before going into your room and putting the dress on and styling your hair a bit. You put the heels on and while you can’t see the finished product, you never felt more beautiful. Well, maybe at your wedding, but that was ages ago. You wonder what Dean Winchester has in store for you tonight. You look at the photo of your dad.

“Wish me luck Bobby.” And walk out of the room.

**Dean POV**

Dean was waiting outside in the war room with Sam. He had a black tuxedo suit on with a white dress shirt, a white pocket square, and black tie. He would prove it to the both of them. He was going to protect them, fiercely. He wasn’t good for much other than brute force, so he was going to use that muscle to keep them safe. He trusted Y/N and Sam with his life, but he shouldn’t have to. At the end of the day, his life didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. Only her and Sam. His thoughts were interrupted by the click of heels on the concrete floor.

Sam was making sure his tie was straight when he caught sight of her. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed in his life. The sight almost knocked the breath out of him. He wanted to take her away, make her his forever, and learn all of the ways he could make her moan.

The dress hugged her every curve, accentuating her figure. She’d teased her hair a bit so it looked messed, and she’d chosen a deep shade of red for lipstick. Damn, he wanted to kiss those lips. She had a small black purse slung over her shoulder. He had picked it out and thrown it in the box with the dress. 

“You’re drooling, Winchester.” She teased. The things her voice did to him. Sam pretended to shut his jaw and Dean slapped at his hand. 

“Knock it off.” He put his arm out for Y/n to grab, which she did. The delicate grip she held on him was deceptive. He wasn’t stupid. There was power in those arms, and not just from her witchcraft.

“Dean, it’s not even four yet. Where are we going dressed like this?”

“We’ve got a long drive ahead of us sweetheart. Let’s head out. Don’t wait up Sam, but call if anything happens.”

“Bye Sammy.” She waves after him, following Dean up the stairs. This was a good idea, if only just to see her dressed up like this, it was a damn good idea. 

\---------------------------------------------

He had shaved, and styled his hair, and he looked down right delectable in that tuxedo. Every part of him was accentuated. Every movement and muscle could be seen under the fabric. When he had seen you, his eyes were predatory, which did things to your body that were too indecent to say out loud. If this was his way of apologizing, you were already looking forward to the next fight. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, as he slides in next to you in the Impala.

“Lincoln, Nebraska.” He tells you, smiling proudly.

“What’s in Lincoln?”

“You’ll see. For now, tunes.” 

“AC/DC!” 

“Oh yes ma’am!” He pops a cassette tape into the stereo and “Hell’s Bells” starts playing. You watch him as he sings along to the lyrics, and it almost breaks your heart. He’s singing happily, his fingers tapping a drum beat on the steering wheel, a smile on his face, but his eyes. You’ve known Dean almost your whole life and you know that look in his eyes. It’s empty and you notice that a lot of his movements are forced, robotic. But he’s trying. He’s trying so damn hard. You put your hand on his thigh and squeeze. He looks over to you and you just smile at him. He winks before turning back to the road. 

You finally see the sign, “Welcome to Lincoln,” after over two hours of driving. You don’t mind the drive so much, because you are enjoying your conversation with Dean, talking about Hunting and music and movies, but your legs were stiff and you couldn’t wait to stretch out. But you’re pretty upset with what you see when Dean parks the Impala. It’s a rundown alley, next to a beat up parking lot. There are several cars, but there’s litter everywhere. There’s graffiti on the alley wall, and there’s a rusted barb wire fence separating the alley and the parking lot. Dean gets out of the car and goes to open your door.

“We’re here.”

“And where’s here? The site of the Wayne murders? I ain’t becoming batman Dean.” 

“Will you trust me?” He puts his hand out for you to grab. You stare at his hand, but within a second you grab it because you do trust him. Completely.

“But I swear Dean, if I die here, I’m haunting you.”

“You’ve stared down evil witches, vampires, demons, and hellhounds, and it’s a man with a gun that scares you?”

“Monsters are predictable. Humans, not so much.”

“I would never let anything happen to you.” He says, looking you straight in the eye as he says it. You shiver at his gaze, so strong so protective so formidable. Dean looked like a man who could take on the world, and you relished the fire that returned to his eyes. You go in to kiss him, leaning your body into his. He lets you, deepening the kiss, but then breaking it off suddenly.

“We’ve got plenty of time for that later sweetheart. For now, let’s not tempt any robbers, huh?” He winks at you and extends his arm for you to take. 

“So are you going to at least give me a hint as to why you took me to an old alley?”

“Do you remember those old books you used to read when we were teenagers?” He asks, completely off topic, as you walk out of the parking lot and towards the alley.

“Yeah?”

“There were a few that looked like a bunch of crap and I told you that and you said,”

“You should never judge a book by its cover. Yeah, I remember. What about it?”

“What was the book?”

“Uhhh,” You try and wrack your brain. There were several books he had teased you about, but this one time was very specific, because it had been one of your favorites. You had been so drawn to the male protagonist and his angst. “Pride and Prejudice.”

“That’s the one.” He says, smiling at you and snapping his fingers.

“And I remember telling you that you should try reading it before you called my favorite book an old piece of crap.”

“Yes you did!”

“I still don’t understand why you brought that up though?” He just smiles at you as he takes you in front of an old, rusted metal door. It looked like the entrance to a warehouse, probably where they canned foods or sold exports. 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover.” He says, knocking on the door twice. A metal slat opens and you see a pair of eyes.

“My good opinion once lost is lost forever.” A deep voice calls from inside.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen.” Dean answers, confidently. The slat closes and the door opens to reveal what could only be described as the most luxurious library you had ever seen. There were books lining the walls and several small intimate tables around where people were eating dinner. Some people were reading alone and eating, others were talking in pairs, others in groups all with the same book. 

“What is this place?”

“The Book Nook Speakeasy.” He walks up to a man at a podium who is wearing a suit just as nice as Dean’s. In fact, looking around, everyone is well dressed. Obviously, there’s a dress code here and you are so glad Dean has such good taste. But everything also looked expensive here. How was Dean planning on paying? 

“Reservation for two. Under Hetfield.” _Lead singer of Metallica_ , you think to yourself, smiling. 

“Right this way sir.” He leads you to a table in the back. As you walk through, you take a moment to look around. There’s a bar, with shelves of books underneath them, and a back kitchen that you can see through a small circular door. The place has a Prohibition era feel to it and the low lighting sets a romantic mood. The host leads you and Dean to a small round table in the back corner. Dean even pulls the chair out for you to sit in. The host leaves a menu for you both, but before he can leave, Dean stop him and places the orders immediately. You’re surprised when he orders your favorite wine and one of your favorite meals. 

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did.”

“And how did you know?”

“I looked up the menu before we got here.” He smiles, impressed with himself. 

“Dean, this is too much. I haven’t checked my bank account. How are we going to afford this?”

“Come on baby, credit card.”

“That’s not how they work, Dean.”

“I know that sweetheart. It’s why we use fake cards.” 

“Fake?”

“Hunters don’t make money in this line of work. We don’t get paid for this. We just apply for fake cards. Or you know, pool. So don’t worry about it.” You smile at him. You aren’t really sure how you feel about Dean and Sam committing credit fraud, but he has a point with money. Most Hunters moved from town to town. Your dad mostly hunted in South Dakota or gave other Hunters the knowledge they needed to kill the monsters. You had never even thought about how other Hunters made their living. 

After a few minutes, the waiter brings over the bottle of wine and appetizers. You grab a bite of the food and it is incredible. It was so nice to have food at a nice restaurant, rather than take out for once. You and Dean had been taking turns cooking every so often, but nothing like this.

“How did you make money when you were Hunting? I mean, before the store.”

“I did odd jobs in every town I worked. I always stayed for about two, sometimes three weeks if I was running low on cash. I mostly worked farms, sometimes temp jobs at factories or shipping plants. It was hard, but I made a lot of contacts that way.” He nods at you, and you can see that he’s trying to picture you as a farmhand. “Pretty much the same way as when we were at the Cassitys. Normal Hunter garb, but instead, with cow manure caked over it.” He laughs at your joke. 

The food came out and you both enjoyed a wonderful meal, catching up on what you had missed over the years in each other’s personal lives. It was mostly you talking, catching Dean up on what it was like going at it alone and learning about magic. You skipped the one-night stands and meeting Alex. You could spare him those details. Then you started talking about music, movies, Hunting techniques, lore. You rarely ran out of something to talk about. It was nice. There was something that was bothering you though.

“How did you know the line?” You ask.

“What do you mean?” 

“The line from Pride and Prejudice. Did you look it up before we got here?”

“The answer isn’t on their website, but the quotes, which are their password, normally is. I remembered it, vaguely, because,” he stops for a second, as if he were embarrassed, “I actually read the book. After you told me about it. So I did look it up, but I knew what to look for.”

“You read Pride and Prejudice?”

“Of course. You said it was your favorite.

“And?” You ask expectantly. He smiles at you, full teeth.

“Sorry babe, it was an old piece of crap. Movie was okay though.”

“Ugh! You suck Dean.” You proclaim, arms flinging up in the air in exaggeration. You both laugh and when the waiter comes to check on you, you see Dean looking at his phone from the corner of your eye. You tell the waiter that the food is great, but you’d like a to go box of the steak dinner and three slices of the Road Apple Pie. After the waiter walks away, Dean gives you a curious look. 

“For Sam. How is he?”

“What do you mean?” Dean tries to look innocent.

“Dean, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you’ve been looking at your phone all evening. What’s up?”

“I told Sam that the only way I’d leave him behind is if he texted me every so often.”

“So?”

“He said he’s fine. With several exclamation points.” You giggle. “Um, thanks.”

“For?”

“For thinking of Sam. It’s really good that you care so much about him.”

“Of course I do! Dean, I love you both so much. Differently of course, but I do. We grew up together. How could I not love you both?” You smile at him, warm and rich, and put your hands towards his to grab them, but he pulls away, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” You ask, hurt. 

“Yeah. Yeah, just fine.” His words do nothing to dissuade you, but you drop it for now. You had thought, maybe, Dean did love you back, but just didn't know how to say it. Now, you wonder if he loves you at all? You know he cares, after all, look at where he brought you, but love, that might not be in the cards. 

His hand is on the small of your back, holding the to-go bag, as you both exit the restaurant. It was one of the best meals you had had in a long time, and you felt like a wealthy woman as you exited. You thank Dean for the wonderful night, but he assures you it’s not over just yet. 

After about twenty minutes in the Impala, he pulls into the parking lot of a place called The Sunken Gardens. It’s already close to nine, and you wonder if you should be heading back to the Bunker if Dean is worried about Sam, but Dean opens the door for you. The place is almost abandoned as he leads you down some steps into the garden. It is beautiful, probably more so during the day, but breathtaking. There is a gorgeous gazebo, that’s lit with several lights. He takes you under it and holds your waist, just staring at you.

“What do you think?”

“Dean, this place is beautiful.”

“Top 10 most romantic spots in Lincoln Nebraska. Stay right there and close your eyes. No peeking.” You do as you’re told, not really one for surprises. But so far, everything Dean has done has been incredible. You had never felt this taken care of before and everything with Dean was natural and wonderful and adventurous. 

“Open them.” And you do as you’re told. He’s standing there with a large bouquet of flowers, a small stuffed squirrel doll, and a heart shaped box which must have contained chocolates. He hands you the bouquet, which you study. Ambrosia, baby’s breath, white carnations, and forget-me-nots. All were flowers that were meant to portray love and your breath catches. 

“Dean…” Your eyes are on the flowers as you whisper his name. 

“Y/n, I… Damn this is so hard to say. I know you told me…” He trailed off, looking very uncomfortable. He was telling you that he loved you too, but in his own way. Dean had never been good at showing his emotions. None of the Winchesters were good at saying “I love you.” They showed their loves in other ways, mostly action. So, before Dean could say anything, you kiss him, hard. His mouth opens invitingly, and you both just stand there, kissing until you can’t feel where one of you stops and the other begins. You finally stop to breathe, unable to catch your breath. 

“Wow.” Leaves his lips as he stares off into the distance, a goofy grin on his face.

“I love you too, Dean. You don’t have to say anything else. I understand.” You smile at him, big and wide. 

“We should, uh, head back home. Yeah.” His eyes twinkly, wickedly.

“Yeah we should. How far are we again?”

“Two and a half hours!” He groans, which causes you to laugh. You both head back to the Impala. Dean switches the car into drive and floors it, racing home. Despite his breaking the speed limit for most of the drive, it actually takes you almost three hours to get home. There were frequent stops on the side of the road, unable to keep your hands off each other. And so the ride was peppered with adrenaline rushing speed and mini makeout sessions in the dark wooded parts of the highway home. You felt like a couple of teenagers. 

It was well past midnight, approaching one in the morning, when you finally got to the Bunker. And it took you several minutes to even get inside, as you both kept stopping to enjoy each other’s lips. He had you slammed against the door of the bunker, biting at your bottom lip, a small growl in his throat, when you pushed him back.

“Dean, keys!” You breathe out. He smiles at you, it seems that he can’t stop smiling at you, and pulls the key out to open the door. You both burst into the bunker, giggling hysterically and kissing once more as you try and walk down the stairs while staying in each other’s arms. A feat that would have been so much harder if you hadn’t been using magic to keep you floating just barely off the ground, a newly acquired trick. 

“Gross!” You hear Sam’s voice. You both turn around and see Sam sitting at the table in the War Room. 

“Sorry Sammy!” You cry out, a little embarrassed. “We brought you a present.” You put the doggy bag with the three slices of pie and the steak dinner on the table in front of him. You and Dean hadn’t gotten around to eating the pies. You’d both found a different delicacy to satiate your appetites. 

“It’s late. Where have you two been?” 

“It was incredible! Dean-” Before you can finish your statement, Dean has you slung over his shoulder, your feet dangling helplessly in front of him and his hand firmly on your rear. You have quite the view of his strong backside. The man can pull off dress pants. 

“Sam, you might want a pair of earphones. Or turn the television up as high as it goes.”

“Dean! I don’t want to hear that.”

“Get used to it Sammy. It’s Valentine’s Day.” Dean yells happily as he makes his way towards his bedroom. You wave at Sam and give him a sheepish grin. His face is red as he pokes through the bag.

“You know it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, right guys!? It’s February 15!” Sam yells back.

“Only one of the pies is yours Sam!” You try and yell out, before you disappear into the corridors that houses all of the rooms. Dean opens the door to his room and throws you onto his bed roughly, closing the door behind him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to me.” You giggle excitedly, until you watch him wince in pain. In the moment, you had forgotten his stitches in his side. He recovers quickly, but not quick enough to hide the pain. He starts to undress, staring at you wickedly, but you just stare at him, your eyebrow raising in judgement.

“Don’t try to hide Winchester. You’re still injured.”

“No I’m not.”

“Payback’s a bitch ain’t it? No way love.”

“You can be on top? No stitches opening that way.” You take the time to think about it, and you definitely don’t hate the idea, but fair is fair. He waited for you to heal, so you were going to do that too. You stand up from the bed and go to him, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

“Let’s check those stitches. You’ve been doing a lot of heavy lifting.” You take out the tuxedo, trying your best not to seem seductive, but you were sure you were failing based on the change in his breathing. As you take his shirt off, you can see the red under the bandaging. 

“Your stitches popped you dumb dumb.” 

“I feel like the only times you undress me nowadays is to stitch me up.”

“Sorry sweetie. Wait here, I’ll grab the first aid kit.”


	16. This Magic is Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter follows the episode: Man's Best Friend With Benefits

“Will you two just give it a rest already?” You complain, finally fed up with their argument. All they did nowadays was argue about the dumbest stuff. You had insisted on driving your own car, but Dean had insisted on keeping you on speaker phone so that it felt like you were in the car with them. But for the last fifteen minutes, the boys had fallen into one of the most intense arguments you had ever heard between them. The argument had continued even after both cars were parked and turned off. You turned off the phone and stepped out of the car, walking towards the brothers. You can hear Dean’s voice, filled with intense anger, growing louder as you approach. 

“I’d give it a rest if he would just come to his damn senses. Come on Y/N, tell Sam that Curly was a better stooge than Shemp.” You smile at him. This was the man you loved. A giant of a Hunter, arguing in a rundown motel parking lot with his giant of a younger brother about the Three Stooges. 

“Don’t bring me into this. I wasn’t really a fan of the Stooges.”

“What?” He looks at you with shock and disgust. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. I think I’m going to be sick.” He mimes a hurt stomach and you and Sam just shake your heads at him.

“So, we calling James tonight?” Sam asks as you all walk into the room. You head straight to the bed closest to the bathroom, putting your bag on it. 

“No. I’ll just call him tomorrow. That drive was a bitch.” He puts his bag down next to yours, nudging you gently. You unpack your grimoire while the boys move on to their next little argument about the case, James. From what Dean and Sam told you on the ride to St. Louis, James is a cop they had run into on a case to stop an alchemist who had been poisoning people at his job and trying to rise to the top of his firm. Sam had said that the alchemist had almost poisoned them when James warned them of the alchemist’s identity before they could actually drink the beer that would have magically turned into lead. And years later, the Winchesters were returning the favor after James had sent an SOS text message to Dean. 

“I’m gonna go for a beer run. Babe, you coming?” 

“Sure.” You shrug your shoulders and hop off the bed to move towards him. Dean wraps his arm around you and you fit together like two puzzle pieces to finish the full image. It had been a couple days since Valentine. The glow from that evening was still bright. 

“You need anything Sam?”

“No, I’m good.”

“You sure?” He asks again. 

“Yeah.” Sam answers nonchalantly again, unpacking his duffel bag. Dean’s arm leaves your shoulder as he turns back towards Sam.

“'Cause you did just gank a Hellhound, which is no slice of pie, and, uh, there is a minefield of who knows what crap ahead. Just want to make sure that you are okay.”

Sam looks up this time, his face first and his lips tightened in annoyance. “Dean, I’m good.”

“Dean, Sam said he’s fine and I’ve already looked him over myself. Relax a little.” You nudge gently at him.

“I’m just trying to make sure that he knows it ain’t too late to tag out. I could gank a devil dog myself.”

“Or I could. You really want to have this argument again?” One eyebrow goes up, challenging him to open up that can of worms. If he thought a Singer couldn’t hold their own with a Winchester, Dean had another thing coming to him. 

“So beer run, let’s go.” Dean turns quickly, heading out the door. You shoot an apologetic look towards Sam as you follow after your boyfriend, an unspoken conversation of “I’m sorry he’s a butthead” and a response of “I know, he’s my brother. I’m used to it” passing between you and the younger Winchester. You slide back into the Impala, after just getting to relax after an eight hour drive.

“Why don’t we pick up a pie while we’re out, huh?” You suggest, trying to cheer him up. There was nothing that made Dean happier than a good pie.

“Cherry?” He asks. His voice showed excitement for food, but there’s an evil twinkle in his eyes and a suggestive smile on his lips.

“Sure?” You respond, slowly and confused. He smiles straight ahead, turning the car on, when the music blasts. 

_“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water, such a sweet surprise…”_

“Dean Winchester, you sneaky son of a gun.” He starts laughing at his joke as he drives to a convenience store you had both passed on the way. The parking lot is completely empty and Cherry Pie had now faded into Talk Dirty to Me. Dean parks the car, but he doesn’t turn it off and neither of you are leaving the car.

“What is this? Your seduction album?”

“Popped it in right before you got in.” He laughed, his lips on your neck, his words vibrating against your skin. His breath is hot and it sends a familiar heat into your stomach. 

“You made a mixtape?”

“Just for you.” His hands are gripping at your back, squeezing with the need to touch you, but you can feel the restraint in his grip. You are, afterall, in a public place, empty or not. His lips make their way to your chin as they move to capture your mouth.

“Dean, we talked about this.”

“Uh huh.” 

“It was your idea!”

“Mmmmm.” He replies, silencing you with his mouth as he’s kissing you with need. His tongue moves at your lips, and you open for him. He’s kissing you with fervor, like you both hadn’t seen each other in weeks. When it reality, you’d both been making out at the rest stop back in Kansas City. You pull back and smile at him.

“It was your idea to try and stay professional on Hunting trips, to keep from any repeat mishaps.” After your Valentine’s Day finale had come to a crashing halt, you had both spent the time in each other’s arms instead. It was a very...intimate moment. Dean had apologized for bringing the cuffs to the Cassity Farm. He had admitted to it being very stupid and said he would be more composed when you were all out Hunting. You elected to forgive him, because to be completely honest, he could have used iron manacles, which would have been far more effective and much harder to break than a little anti-magic rune. 

“Dumb idea. Pretend it never happened.”

“While I would love to make like a bunny in the parking lot, Sam’s waiting for us. I’ll wait here while you get the stuff.”

“You’re not coming with?”

“And distract you while you shop? Nu’uh. Besides, I’ll get a nice view from here.” You smile wickedly at him as he exits the car, laughing. You watch him walk away, his ass looking downright delectable in his jeans. As he enters the convenience store, he does a little dance in your direction, shaking that delectable booty, before composing himself and walking in like nothing happened.

“And he calls me a nerd.” You burst out laughing, talking to the wind. 

A few minutes later, you’re both back to necking in the motel parking lot like a couple of teenagers, beer, and a cherry pie in the backseat.

“Say the word, and I’ll get us another room.”

“Mmmmm.” You hum back as he kisses your neck, but you suddenly become distracted from Dean’s mouth. It’s a hard thing to describe to someone who’s never used magic, but for you, it’s a familiar feeling. It’s like a wire being snapped tight and a metallic taste on your tongue. Strong magic. 

“Dean, stop.” He moves back from you, his hands in the air, and a deep concern in his eyes. Loves fills you at the look, a man worried about taking it too far. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You reassure him, getting out of the car. “It’s Sam.”

“What’s wrong with Sam?” He turns the car off as you grab the bag in the back.

“Someone used magic in the area.”

“I thought you had to concentrate to feel that?” He asks as you both head to the hotel room quickly.

“It’s hard to explain, but I felt the shift. Must have been some heavy duty stuff.” His hand is on his pistol and your hands are raised to throw someone to the wall when you see Sam quickly leave the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind him. He seems unharmed and you both relax. Could you have imagined it?

“Sam?” You ask tentatively as Dean catches up next to you. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Before you get pissed off, look, I...I just want you to know this isn't my fault. She just showed up at the door, okay? Didn't track in any mud. Just wanted her belly scratched. I...I figured maybe she could stay tonight, and we'd try and find her a home tomorrow.” You both look at him, confused as to what he’s talking about. Sam looks worried as he slowly opens the door. You both lean to the side to peer in and there, on Sam’s bed, is one of the hottest women you had ever seen. Her skin is like mocha, black hair with loose curls, and a smirk on her face. She’s wearing an “LBD,” a little black dress, with a studded red collar. You look at Dean, and he seems fairly uncomfortable and worried. He thinks she’s hot, the little bastard, and he feels bad about it. 

“Uh, sure, yeah, she can stay. But I think we’ll probably leave you two alone. Y/N?”

“No way I’m sharing a room with these two. Four is two too many.” You reply cheekily. Sam’s face twists in confusion and he turns around to look in.

“Two seconds ago she was a dog.” He pulls a knife out and quickly walks back into the room. But you know she’s not a shapeshifter; the magic you felt was her shifting from dog to human.

“All right, who the hell are you?”

“I’m not a shapeshifter, so you can stash the blade.” She replies casually as you and Dean place the bags on the table. The boys are wary, and you’re just standing back, watching the show.

“She’s a familiar.” You smile, leaning against the wall.

“Gold star for you.” She smiles at you appreciatively. You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. 

“A what?” Dean asks, turning back to you. 

“They’re companions to witches. They spend half their time as animals, half their time as humans. For some witches, they’re servants. For others, friend or confidante. Others, research assistants. It depends per witch.”

“I get a more accurate read on people in my other persona. Approaching guys in a motel room like this-- well, it gets complicated.” She explains, leaning up in the bed. “My name’s Portia. I belong to James Frampton.” James. That’s the man you were all here to help. 

Dean’s body gets tense and he starts shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No, no. See, that...that doesn't work for us, 'cause that would mean that our buddy James is a witch.”

“Wow, you’re quick.” Portia says sarcastically. 

“James is a freaking witch?” He asks again.

“Don’t sound so upset about it, huh Dean?” You say, a little angrily, straightening up against the wall. Dean looks back at you, looking a little thrown off, his face apologetic.

Portia just keeps speaking, trying to explain what happened. “He wasn’t when you met him, but that last case you worked on with him--”

“Uh, lunatic alchemist. It was nasty.” Sam finishes off, looking at you to remind you of the conversation you had all had earlier. Portia stands up and walks closer to Dean and Sam, standing a foot apart. She goes on to explain that the encounter between them and the alchemist pushed him to studying witchcraft, to learn more about the art and became a witch as a result. Dean doesn’t seem to be buying it.

“You don’t like dogs, do you?” She asks, surveying Dean up and down. Dean scoffs in response, which for you, translates to a firm “not really.” From what Portia says, James is still a cop, using his powers to rise through the ranks and become an even more efficient homicide detective. You’re surprised to hear that he would stay a police officer. Most witches tended to back away from authority, worried of capture or notice. To use his powers in a precinct, it would eventually draw suspicion. 

Portia goes on to explain that James seems to be having a breakdown of some sort. He’d been getting horrible nightmares, along with headaches and screaming. To you, it sounded like someone who was having issues controlling their magic. Or maybe someone who had developed the Sight or Dreamwalking and couldn’t control it. But you kept your mouth shut for the time being, wanting to hear more information before jumping to conclusions.

“Maybe you can find a way to help him.” Portia suggests, sounding very much like a request. Dean looks over at Sam and scoffs, completely forgetting you were in the room. 

“Well, here’s the thing. Uh, witches-not real fans.”

“So then how do you explain her?” She cocks her chin towards you and Dean turns around to see a very pissed off witch. Your hands are on your hips and your eyes are pulsing with rage.

“She’s different!” He tries to remedy the situation. “Baby, you know that you’re different. We’re not a fan of most witches. Good witches, they’re great. All for wicca love and all that!”

“We’re going to talk about this later Winchester.” You hiss at him.

“James is a cop with a spotless record. He’s used his skills for nothing but good. If you can put your faith in her, why don’t you put aside your bigotry and give him a shot?” Portia says, angrily, pushing up towards Dean so she’s right on him. You walk forward in response, pushing Dean out of the way, roughly. 

“We’ll help him Portia. Or at the very least, I will.” You tell her, and you can see her shoulders relax. 

“No way are you doing this alone!” Dean bursts out. You turn towards him, an eyebrow cocked up.

“Oh honey, you are still in the dog house here. No pun intended.” You turn to Portia, who shrugs, amused. “We’ll be right back. Dean, outside. Sam, play nice.” And you tug your lughead of a boyfriend outside.

“What the hell Dean Winchester?” You whisper out angrily, trying not to disturb the other guests.

“I’m sorry. But most of the witches we deal with are bad news Y/N. We’ve talked about this.”

“And I thought you’d moved past it. What, you can’t help a witch out, but you can sleep with one?”

“You know it’s not like that. What we have, it’s different.”

“How?”

“I knew you before you were a witch! I know you’re a good person!” He hisses out angrily, not liking having his back against the wall. 

“And you knew James!” You shoot back. He’s quiet for a moment and you’re both there, fuming. As seconds go by, you both calm down. 

“I recognize, Dean, that there are a lot of bad witches in this world, but there are good ones too. If James needs our help, we should give him the benefit of the doubt. I wish you could stop looking at the world in black and white and see that there are shades of gray all around us.” You whisper, genuinely hurt. He must have heard it in your voice, because his hand is on your cheek, his thumb stroking your face gently. 

“I know. I will. And with you, no gray. All the colors in the world are sharper with you around.” 

“Such a romantic.”

“Can’t help it when I’m with you.”

“So?”

“We’ll help James, all of us together. And I’ll put aside the witch hate. If they’re even half as good as you, we’ll be just fine.” You push him gently, playfully. It’s not great, but he’s making progress. You think maybe, often, he forgets that you have powers, and so he can’t really separate the fact that you are you and you are a witch. But bright side, he not only agreed, but he hasn’t once pulled his gun on the familiar. Which was less than the amount of times he pulled his gun on you! For now, you’ll take what you can get. 

When you both reenter, you see Sam looking very uncomfortable and Portia remaining in her power stand. The four of you continue your conversation after you announce, once again, that you would all help James. Portia is relieved and you hand her a beer and ask her to explain what’s been happening. Portia then tells you that it’s been difficult to communicate with James because he was telepathically blocking her, which makes it difficult for Portia to know if James’s nightmares were real or not. She also drops the ball that it wasn’t James who texted the Hunters, it was her, which was going to make things much more complicated. Sam and Dean look very uncomfortable with that information, not knowing how to continue with it. 

“Nothing we can do about it right now. Portia, why don’t you head back to James’s? We need to get some rest and we’ll meet you at his house tomorrow?” You suggest, taking lead.

“I’ll leave you the address. Come as early as you can.” She leaves a slip of paper on the table and you all watch as she shifts into her dog form, a deep black doberman, and leaves the room. It was an intense sight, to watch her bones shift and crack and the skin grow fur, as she shifted. You shuddered; the shift was quick and others may not notice, but you had a trained eye for magic. You wonder if that hurt her?

“Alright, bed?” You turn to the rest. They both nod. As you and Sam head to bed, you watch as Dean just stands, a little uncomfortable. You aren’t sure why he’s just standing in the middle of the room, until it hits you. He isn’t sure if you’re still mad at him. He doesn’t want to assume that you’re fine and that he can share a bed with you. You smile gently.

“You coming to bed Dean? I have a feeling tomorrow might be a long day?” You call to him, moving the sheet back for two.

“Yeah. Yeah. Just thinking.” He tries to pass off what he was really worried about, probably a show since Sam was in the room. He lies next to you, the warmth of his body comforting. Everyone says good night to each other in turn and Sam turns the lights off. Dean presses his body against you, the big spoon to your little, and it feels right. His arms wrap around you and he snuggles his nose into your hair. The last thing he says, as you all drift to sleep, is a light whisper in your ear, “Wait till these stitches come out.” 

 

It was an awkward situation, the three of you sitting in the living room of James Frampton. You and Dean were on one couch with Sam on the other, staring at each other as Portia and James argued in the other room. You had all shown up around eight in the morning, after it had taken you quite some time to wake everyone up. Portia had been the one to open the door and when James had seen you all, he had immediately gotten angry. He had asked you all to sit in the living room and then he pulled Portia into the other room and they had been arguing for what felt like hours, but was probably more like ten minutes. 

Eventually, Portia leaves the room that they had been arguing, but she’s in her dog shape. She looks at the three of you, barks and then leaves. James walks into the room, looking disheveled, his hand raking through his hair. He’s pale and there are circles under his eyes. It’s look like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

“Sam, Dean. And…?” He acknowledges everyone in the room. 

“Y/N. Y/N Singer. The Winchester’s resident witch.” You put your hand out to offer a shake, but he just ignores it.

“I know why you’re here, and it’s fine. You can all go.” James looks at the brothers.

“Nu’uh. Witchcraft, James? Are you insane?” Dean says, angrily. 

“What he means to say, is that meddling with magic when you don’t understand it can get dangerous.” You try to smooth it over. 

“We’ve seen a lot of witches who screw with that stuff and get seriously messed up.” Dean says back to you. “Do I need to remind you-”

“Not now Dean.” You snap back at him. He better not be trying to bring up Sherry!

“Alright you two.” Sam lectures, silencing you both, before turning back to James. “Look, why don’t you tell us about these dreams? Portia said people were dying in them.”

"’Dying’? They were torn to bits. I, uh, I could feel my fingers ripping into their flesh.” James explains, distressed. You go through hundreds of possibilities that could be causing this: Dreamwalking, astral projection, hallucination spell, suggestion charm, but those all seemed unlikely. Or maybe he was going crazy, losing control of his magic. Not everyone can be a witch. Astrid and Sherry couldn’t handle the power and sometimes that just happens. 

Dean looks a little freaked out as he asks, “But they were dreams?”

“Well, I, uh, woke up in my bed.” James tries to explain.

“Doesn’t mean anything. You could easily have been manipulated into leaving your home, committing the murders, and then right back to your bed. Or someone could have planted the idea in your head. Depends on the spell.” You explain. 

“Possible.” James confirms. 

“Not helping, James.” Dean says, getting more upset. James confirms that the people he had dreamed about were dead. Sam suggested that maybe he had heard about the deaths and let it get in his head. James gets short with Sam, telling him he had already thought of that possibility, and shows you all a shirt that was stained with blood. Dean purses his lips together, nodding his head in a very apparent, “I told you so” attitude. Sam asks if the shirt belonged to him, hoping that it didn’t, but James confirms it was definitely his. 

“What’s happening to me?” James asks, falling into the seat of his couch. The three of you sit down as well. You felt awful for him. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like, being in his shoes. 

“Well, how about this? Um, you pissed off another witch, and he or she hexed you and forced you to…” Dean tries to brainstorm. You appreciate the fact that he is trying to come up with any other possibility other than James being another witch who had gone crazy. 

“Not likely.” You answer before James can. “I’ve never heard of witch hexing one another like that. We would be able to sense it.”

“Well, what about with Trevor and Morgan?” Dean reminds you again. 

“That was different. They were new to magic, and they had only been training for a couple years. They couldn’t muster their magic, just cast ritual spells. And Sherry had made a deal to get her powers.” You tell him. James just looks at the both of you talking back and forth. You realize that James doesn’t have the same background knowledge about your conversation, so you apologize to him. He shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Well, then what?” Dean asks, getting upset again. 

“I don’t know. I’d need to research, talk to some friends.” You tell him, trying to stay calm. You didn’t appreciate his attitude. 

“How many dreams have you had?” Sam asks.

“Four. Last night was the most recent. It was a blind man. I, uh...I was choking him, and, uh…” James faltered, unable to continue with the next words of, and _I killed him._ Those words cemented James’s fate, and lo that you were to admit it, you agreed with what Dean was going to do next. Dean tosses a bag onto the table, which was filled with everything one needed to stop a witch. When he unzips it, he pulls out thick iron shackles and holds them up to James, telling James that it was in his best interest to not leave the house. And whether or not it was actually James committing the murders, it would be much better for him to not have access to magic or leave, just in case. 

After making sure that James had been secured, Sam took your car back to the motel while you and Dean went looking for ingredients for a witch-killing spell. You had suggested your own spell, which just neutralized magic, but Dean wanted something more heavy duty. You didn’t agree with it, but you didn’t fight it. But you did ask where he got the spell from. You’d heard about it from other Hunters, but no one had ever told you where it came from. 

Dean looked at you warily from his peripherals and his knuckles turned white. “It was...uh...Bobby.”

“I see.” Was all you replied as you stared out the window. With that, silence took over the rest of the car ride as you thought about the irony of the situation. Your own father was the one who had created the spell to kill your people. Granted, he meant it for those rogue witches who went real bad, but he still made it. 

The shop you both arrived at wasn’t one of your contacts. Sam had found the address online. Despite that though, you were still able to help Dean get a deal. Problem with these shops is that the overhead was high and the profits were small, so many of them inflated the prices to make up for how little most people wanted to pay for herbs and such. Mostly tourists would get scammed. But for witches like yourself, you weren’t one to get scammed. You paid enough to allow the shop to earn a profit and to add another name into your little black book: Aria Elysium. You were pretty sure that was a name she adopted, and not the one she was born with. 

As you headed back to the motel room, Dean finally chose to speak up. “When Bobby made that spell, I don’t think he had you in his mind.”

“Yeah. Probably not.”

“No, I’m sure of it. And we’ll never use it on you either.” 

“Never say never Dean. I might go bad one day.” You wink at him.

“Honey, you ain’t got a bad bone in your body.”

“Want to take that bet?” You purr at him and watch as he shivers a little. 

“You keep it up, and I’m not gonna be able to wait for these stitches to be out.”

“You’ve got a point there. Rain check?” 

“Damn hellhounds.” You chuckle at him as you watch him deflate.

You and Dean entered the room of the Sleepy Lodge Motel, where Sam was hard at work on his computer. You assumed he was researching the murder cases James had talked about. When you both walked in, Sam confirmed it, saying the recent victim had been a blind man. You put the spell ingredients on the table and pull the chicken feet out. 

“Dean, can you cool this please? It’ll work better if it’s chilled.” You ask him. He nods and puts the feet into the mini-fridge. You start prepping the spell ingredients while the feet chill. As you work, you hear the brothers, arguing once again about the trials and who should be doing them. You find yourself wishing, just once, that they would stop. It was getting irritating listening to them bicker. 

“Are you done?” You hear Dean’s voice, deceptively calm.

“Yeah, I'm done if you're done.” Sam replies back, angrily and softly. 

“Can you both be done? I’m trying to mix together a set of ingredients to a vital spell here. You know, one that can kill something and if it goes wrong, could lead to us being killed?” You say back, impatiently. You can hear both brothers bashfully apologize. 

“It’s fine. Listen, this spell ain’t exactly easy. I’ll finish it here and then head to the police station with Sam. Why don’t you go with Portia to check out the coven?”

“Woah, why not you?” Dean asks, upset.

“Because I think it’d be good for you to see how the other half lives. Not to mention if I go, they’ll try and recruit me into the coven. They’ll be able to tell I’m a witch immediately.” You get up from the table with the spell and give him a pop kiss on the cheek. “Play nice okay?” You tell him, before returning to the spell. He doesn’t put up too much of a fight and leaves some time later to meet up with Portia. 

You and Sam change into your FBI garb after you finish mixing the ingredients. They need a few hours to sit before you can move on to the next step, so you told Sam that you would join him.

You flash your badges at the woman at the front desk of the St. Louis Police Department, stating that you were Special Agents Keith and Richards.

A man in a white lab coat with curled hair came out and picked you two up, escorting you both to the back. He introduces himself as Josh, the medical examiner on the case. He takes you a grizzled older detective and introduces him as Ed Stoltz, the lead detective of the case. He was slightly overweight and balding. He had the air of arrogance and looked down on the both of you, probably due to your age. 

“Josh here tells me you don’t have a lot to go on.” Sam says.

“Yeah. Isolated parts of the city, vics who meant nothing to nobody, so…” Detective Stoltz replies.

“Right, well, uh, my partner and I had a look at the crime scenes.” Sam says, pointing to you. 

“Things really must be slow at the Bureau.” The detective laughs before going on to say that there was nothing of significance there. 

“Agent Richards.” Sam calls to you. You pull out a small evidence bag with a piece of James’s shirt and Sam continues, “we did manage to find this piece of fabric. Things get overlooked. It happens.”

“Thankfully, things were slow at the Bureau.” You smile back, wryly. You were never fond of arrogance, especially in those who were supposed to protect and serve. Detective Stoltz doesn’t seem too happy as Sam hands the fabric over to him, suggesting that it be analyzed and see if the blood has a match. Stoltz hands it over the Josh, the medical examiner, and he walks away. 

“A witness did mention seeing a man in a suit and a white shirt leaving the area, so…” The detective continues. You pull out a pad of paper, prepared to write down any important information.

“You didn’t mention a witness in your report. Anything else?” Sam asks, and you can tell he’s irritated. 

“No. We’ll get back to you on the lab report. If that’s all…”

“Sure, but this witness-” Sam asks, before the detective walks away, saying that he’d be in touch. You put the pad away and follow Sam as he walks off.

“Guy’s a bit of a dick.” You whisper to him. 

“Yeah, and obviously hiding something.” You both leave the police station and head to your car, you at the wheel. 

“Let’s head back to the motel, see what Dean dug up. And hopefully the cops can give us something we can work with later.” 

Several hours later, Detective Stoltz finally calls back, telling Sam that the blood was a match to victim three. Sam calls Dean to let him know as you finish the witch-killing spell, putting a stopper on the bottle. It seems that Dean may have been right. If the blood had really gotten on James’s clothes, he was probably the killer. You’re still convinced he has no idea that he’s the one doing it; a whole Jekyll and Hyde scenario. 

When Dean gets back from the “witch bar,” as Dean called it, the three of you change into your Hunter garb. With Dean driving, you move into the Impala and head towards James’s house. The lights are all out when you arrive, meaning either they were both asleep, or James was out killing again.

“After you sweetheart.” Dean says, waving his hands towards the lock.

“You’re lockpicking skills are going to get rusty, relying on me all the time.” You turn your wrist, flipping the lock from the inside, allowing Dean to be able to open the door.

“Ah, but this is way more fun to watch.” 

“Guys, enough flirting. We’ve got a job to do.” Sam whispers back harshly. You both chuckle a little and get back into serious Hunter mode. Dean opens the door cautiously and the three of you head towards James’s room. Dean pulls the bottle with the potion you’d made. You’d given it to him, unsure of your ability to be the one who would actually use it. Dean opens the door and you see James, bound in the manacles, looking more ragged than the morning. 

You didn’t want to watch what happened next. Killing a vampire or a werewolf was easy. Killing a witch, your own kind, and one you still weren’t completely sure was guilty, was not. You hear the flick of the lighter. For the spell to work, it had to be lit. You had never seen the spell at work. You hope it isn’t messy.

“No, Dean!” You suddenly hear Portia’s voice yell as a door opens. You look and see her in a small, black nightdress. She tells you all that James isn’t the killer, but Dean isn’t putting the lighter out. You grab his hand gently, looking up at him.

“Dean, give her a chance to explain.” You plead, and he puts the bottle and the lighter away.

“Alright, you got five minutes.” He says roughly.

“James and I were close, without psychological walls. Intimate.” She tries to explain. You blush, feeling a little scandalized. Who were you to judge love, but really… You knew a bit about the bond between familiars and witches. You also knew that an intimate relationship, while not forbidden, was definitely frowned upon. Dean didn’t seem to be picking up her mean though, so Sam had to be the one to clarify. 

Dean chuckles nervously and starts babbling. You watch as he puts his foot, figuratively, into his mouth, reminding Portia about how she spends half of her time. He looks to you and Sam for help to bail him out. Sam shakes his head no. You cock your head, wryly smiling at him, and put your hands on your hips. You planned on enjoying this one. A little payback for all the witch bashing lately. 

You continue to listen to Portia as she continues on, telling you three that she had in fact seen the murders James had committed. The three of you tense and Dean gets irritated. Why would she stop you all from killing James if he had been the one to commit the murders? Portia becomes more desperate as she tells them that she just saw the kills, no preparation or process or reason. 

“That’s… odd.” You admit.

“No other awareness of the crimes?” Sam asks.

“No! Doesn’t that at least suggest he’s under another’s control?” She asks, desperately looking at Dean.

“Spencer and Y/N said that wasn’t possible.” Dean dismisses her.

“They said they’d never heard of it. James is chained. He’s confined. At least take a shot.” She says, bargaining for more time.

“Dean, she has a point. He can’t do shit in those manacles. What harm would come from one more day?” You interlace your fingers through his, pulling out the charm. You were desperate to prove that James wasn’t a killer. Something about his life reminded you of yours. Someone who used their gift to stop monsters, someone in a field where their gifts weren’t understood. He was a Learner, just like you. Only difference, he was a cop, you were a Hunter. 

“Fine.” Dean replies, looking at you. “But one more day. We find nothing, and I’m sorry James. But we need to keep the city safe.” James and Portia nod. Portia looks to you and mouths, “Thank you,” before the three of you exit the house and return to the Impala.

“So they really…” 

“I wouldn’t think too hard on it Dean.”

“Think they did it doggy style?” He smiles back at you. Both you and Sam groan and tell Dean to shut up. You give him a playful whack on the shoulder and tell him to drive. You were tired and wanted a bed. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Sam head back to the station the next day while Dean goes with Portia to check on an informant. You see Ed and Josh exit a door at the end of the hallway. Josh is holding a thick file in his hands, which you are sure contains your case in it. You both head down towards them. 

“Gentleman.” Sam nods at them.

“Still investigating this crappy little case? I’m awed the Bureau has so much time on its hands.” Ed says derisively. 

“It’s a good thing we do, otherwise you would have missed that piece of evidence we gave you yesterday.” You sneer back, an eyebrow raising.

“Agent Richards.” Sam scolds lightly, but half-heartedly. “We have some individual discretion to pursue cases as we see fit.” Sam explains. Josh excuses himself and leaves with the file. 

“Yeah, but at some point, cases like this go cold, as I'm sure you're aware. Just not enough to keep them floating...that's all.” Stoltz dismisses.

“Sure. No new leads then?” Sam asks.

“No. And it’s drifting towards the back burner, really. We just don’t have the manpower.” You could tell that he was hiding something. This was not a man who knew how to lie. 

“Then it must have been tough to lose a valuable resource like Lieutenant Frampton. See, he and I, we caught a case together a while back.” Sam continues. You pay attention to the detective’s face. The second Sam had sad James’s name, you could see his lips tighten and his body stiffen. 

“Well, he’s not lost to me. He’s...he’s on leave.” Stoltz explains, hands in his pocket. And there’s the bluff. This man should not play poker. Sam tries to egg Stoltz on again and you can see the irritation in his eyes. He excuses himself and walks out. 

“Think our case is in that room?” You ask Sam as soon as Stoltz disappears around the corner.

“One way to know.” He goes to turn the doorknob, but it’s locked. 

“Want me to get in?” You ask him. Sam nods at you, turning his back to hide as you flip the lock to open the door. You slide in and look through the room. There’s a case file with James Frampton on it You open it up, looking through the papers. There are pictures of the victims and the crime scene. They’re gruesome, almost like an animal tore out the throats of the victim. As you continue to look through the papers, you see a witness statement with the name Phillipe LeChat. You write the name down on your paper and knock lightly on the door, to make sure the coast is clear. Sam knocks back and you slide back out, locking the door again behind you.   
He looks at you and you nod back, confirming you got something they could use. You both head back to the motel to change and then to James’s house to meet back up with Dean to compare information. 

You both walk into James’s house and see Dean going through a bunch of papers. You walk straight to Dean, sitting down on the couch right next to him, looking over his shoulder at the papers. They’re all Hunter files on various forms of witchcraft and how to deal with them. 

“So, I have been going over Bobby’s data.” Dean tells them, picking up a few papers. You recognized your dad’s handwriting. 

“Anything?”

 

“Portia might not be wrong. And Y/N actually had the right idea earlier.”

“Which idea? I’d said a lot.”

“You said earlier that a with a spell, a witch could implant an idea into another person’s brain. Bobby here has a spell that can do the same with images.”

“Really?” Sam asks, excitedly. 

“Yeah, Here. ‘Creating false memories into another witch’s mind.’” He grabs a sheet of paper.

“Give me!” You say impatiently, pulling the paper out of his hand. You scan it. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Here it was, a spell that was made to use against other witches. It bypasses a witch’s mental barrier, meant to be used when they are at their most vulnerable, when they are asleep. 

“So James could be convinced he killed those people without ever touching them. So, then, maybe it is somebody else.” Sam says. 

“So, James isn’t the killer.” You comment, looking at Dean with a victorious grin. 

“Maybe, but who’s going to a hell of a lot of trouble to make it look like James? What’d the cops say?” Dean replies. 

“Here's the thing.um, according to Ed Stoltz, they got zip, but they got something. I saw the, uh, tech guy who's working the case, and he had a huge file folder marked ‘James Frampton.’"

“And I took a sneak peak into their office. Looks like Stoltz has built one hell of a case against him. They have evidence and motive and a witness. Some guy named Phillipe LeChat.” Dean’s face lights up with recognition. 

“The cat.” He snarls.

“Cat?” Sam asks, confused.

“Yeah, a familiar of some witch named Spencer.” Dean explains. 

“Well, then let’s go talk to the kitty and see what’s up.” You suggest. 

After a short drive, you’re walking downstairs into a low lit nightclub. The place is gorgeous. There are several black clothed tables with white and black chairs, small red lamps on each one. It felt very gothic chic. You scan the area, standing a bit behind Dean, slipping protection bags into both of their jacket pockets. Neither of them wanted to use it, afraid that it would hurt you more than help. 

“See him?” You ask. There’s a little part of you that wants to stay and talk to others, exchange notes and spells. It’s been months since you’ve been with other witches, and years since you’d spoken to any who were more experienced than you. But you fight the urge. It was the middle of the day and there weren’t many witches here anyhow. 

“Yeah, there at the bar.” You see a sharp faced man, very cat like in his looks, talking to another man at the bar. He had high cheekbones and was handsome, in a weird feline sort of way. The three of you walk towards him.

“Hey, LeChat.” Dean barks, and the familiar turns around.

“Oh, the wicca from Detroit. And a witch?” He looks over at you. 

“Heya kitty, we’ve got some questions for you.” You smile at him. 

“I already answered everything yesterday. I don’t have anything else to add.” He turns around to keep talking to his friend when Dean grabs at his collar, forcing him to look back at us. The other witch turns towards Dean, but you bring your hand up.

“Buzz off.” You snap. The other man walks away.

“Come on, what’s your problem man?” He asks, looking a little freaked.

“We saw the police sketch Phillipe. Along with your statement. Why are you lying about James?” You ask. 

“Please, I can’t.”

“Looks like cat’s got his own tongue. I can fix that.” You smile menacingly. You had all decided before walking in that you were going to be the scary bitch, since you were the one with the magic mojo to back it up. You whisper a spell under your breath, allowing a small sparkle to light up your fingertips, just a bit of electricity. 

“I had no choice.” He groans out.

“What do you mean by that?” Dean barks.

“My master made me.”

“And you just went along with it?” Sam asked, looking disgusted.

“It was a direct command. I can’t disobey that. Please, don’t hurt my face.” He begs, cowering.

“Where can we find your master, huh?” Dean asks, but before Phillipe can answer back, his neck snaps, breaking to one side. 

“Y/N?” Dean stares at you, confused.

“Not me. I didn’t do anything.” You raised your hands up innocently.

“He was always spineless.” A voice says from behind you. You all turn around. There’s a tall man, with short cut hair, wearing a black coat, standing a few feet away from you. 

“Spencer.” Dean whispers to you and Sam.

“Now literally.” He chuckles.

“He was your familiar! What the hell is wrong with you?” You yell angrily. 

“I’ll get another.” You snarl at him. You’d always wanted a familiar, and here this jackass just went a killed his for no good reason. 

“Why’re you doing this to James?” Sam asks. The three of you are in an aggressive stance. 

“Are you and Ed Stoltz in kahoot?” You follow up.

“Me and the cop, please. But it’s been fortuitous that he picked everything up so easily. Really built up a solid case against ole Jimmy, didn’t he?” 

“James said you and him were friends.” You said, confused.

“Friends? Maybe once, until he betrayed me!” He yells out angrily. You move a little away from Dean and Sam. 

“Betrayed you? The hell did he do?” You asked, egging him on, trying to get him to monologue. His eyes follow you as you slowly continue to move to the open. 

“Portia was going to be my familiar! It was an insult when she chose James.”

“That’s how familiars work. They choose their masters, not the other way around.”

“She was my soulmate.”

“She was meant to be James’s familiar. It’s our law.”

“Our law.” He sneered at you. “And what does a little witchling know about our laws? Does she know about how familiar they’ve gotten. Is that part of our law!?” 

“There is no rule forbidding a familiar and a witch and you know it!”

“They put their passions before the community rules. The arrogance, the entitlement. It was too much. So ruining James seemed...appropriate.” He explains, calmly. 

“You’re insane, you know that? You give witches everywhere a bad name! _Flatus_!” You throw your hands out, mustering your magic into a ball of energy and throwing it straight at him. It pushes Spencer back, but doesn’t seem to have done much. You stare at your hands in disbelief. That was a good spell!

“Seriously, you want to take me on? A little witchling like you thinks they can take me!?” He sends his own energy beam straight at you, no incantation necessary, and you feel the blast lift you from the ground and throwing you back onto the floor.

“Y/N!” You hear Dean yell. As you clamber back onto your feet, you watch as Dean and Sam fly over the bar and crash into several bottles, collapsing from sight. 

“Get your paws off my boys!” You yell back. “ _Flagro_!” You shoot fire from your hands, but watch as Spencer just waves his hands aside, the flames dissipating harmlessly. 

“You can’t even cast a spell without an incantation. How do you expect to beat me?” Energy crackles in his hand as he throws another energy blast at you, hitting you square in the chest. But rather than being blown back like before, you feel something like a hook sinking underneath your rib cage. He starts to lift his hands and the hook drags you forward, pain bursting through you as it feels like your ribs are breaking. You scream in pain and shock. 

You see Spencer throw an energy blast at Sam and Dean, not needing to focus on just you. They had the witch-killing molotov in hand and must have been trying to set it off. The protection charm must have taken the brunt of the impact from his last spell, as you feel that energy drain from you. You aren’t sure how much more you can take, between casting your own spells and protecting the Winchesters. Your brand of magic may not be strong enough…

“It’s not only James’ head I can get inside.” He says, and Dean and Sam freeze, unable to move. Spencer looks at you and flicks a hand towards you as well. The pain fades and you start seeing images flash before you. 

You can see your mother. Her eyes are pitch black and she’s staring at you hungrily, a wicked smile on her face. Then you see a knife sticking through her chest and your mother screams as a black smoke leaves her mouth. Her body collapses and you see Bobby. 

The scene changes and Astrid is laughing at you. She’s throwing fireballs and Bobby curses, jumping out of the way. He tells you to run and that he’ll take care of it. Astrid mocks you, pretending to cry like a child and calls you a pathetic babe. 

The scene changes and Bobby is yelling at you, calling you a monster. You see him run out of the house behind you, telling you that you weren’t his daughter anymore.

You suddenly drop to the floor, hitting the ground hard, waking up from the visions you had seen. Now that you were in control again, you look towards Sam and Dean. They’re still frozen and there is a blue energy swirling in their eyes. You allow the protection hex bags to activate and as the energy drains from you, you watch them start to move again. You can hear a dog growling and barking. You try to keep your eyes open, watching Sam and Dean trying to get the potion out. 

“ _Ego voco impetu delere vos caelum et infernum_!” You recite the incantation, allowing the final bits of magic to drain from you. 

“Now!” You scream. The last thing you see is Dean throwing the bottle at Spencer. You collapse on the floor, drained. 

You feel someone’s arms around you, holding you tight. There’s a soft voice repeating something. You can’t really hear it, but it’s saying the same thing over and over again. 

“I’ve got you baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” The voice croons, becoming deeper. As you start to regain consciousness, you begin to recognize the voice as Dean’s.

“You’ve got me? Better not let me go.” You say softly, your voice cracking. 

“You’re awake! She’s awake!” He calls out to someone. You recognize the room you’re in. You’re back at the Sleepy Lodge Motel. 

“What happened?” You ask.

“You passed out after casting the witch-killing spell. You must have used too much magic.” He explains.

“Spencer?” You ask.

“Dead as a doornail sweetheart. We did it.”

“Here, drink this.” James says, moving next to you. He has a mug in his hand. You sniff it, the strong scent of garlic hitting your nose. You sip it. Yep, definitely garlic. It’s warm and goes down your throat with a slimy consistency, but as it hits your stomach, you start to feel stronger. 

“Did you make this?” You ask James.

“Yeah, you’ve got a handy grimoire there. Instructions are very easy to understand.”

“Thank you. For the compliment and for the pick-me-up.” James nods at you and goes to sit at the table, putting his head in his hands. 

“Is James going to be okay?” 

“I don’t know babe. After we ganked Spencer, Sam filled Portia in on everything. She’d followed us to help. She called James and he met us here and offered to help you as a way of thanking us. Rest for now though. You put up quite the fight.” 

“Okay.” You nod sleepily. The potion James made helped a lot, revitalized you and helped fill the void that your loss of magic had left, but you wouldn’t feel good again until you had time to rest. You close your eyes, not needing to try very hard, before you fall asleep. 

“You sure you don’t want to stay and fight this?’ You hear Dean’s voice ask.

“Look, we can help you.” Sam’s voice says after. You start waking up again, feeling back to your old self. It’s dark outside. When you had fought Spencer, it was the middle of the day, but now, it had to be late in the night. You look over at the clock. Half past ten. You’d been asleep for almost five hours. 

“Eh, Spencer was right. Ed Stoltz has built enough of a case against me to make my life hell for a long time, and the community here wants no part of us.” James says. You stir from the bed quietly, taking the blankets off of you and looking towards the door where Dean, Sam, Portia, and James were all half inside the motel and half out, a cold breeze moving through.

“We’ll start over. We’re used to it. It’s the way it’s always been, for all of us. I’ll miss you. Maybe even you. And I’ll definitely miss her.” You hear Portia say. You decide that that was a good moment to get out of bed, an idea striking you.

“You know, if you’re looking for a new place to go, I have somewhere in mind.” You tell them, moving towards the door, the blanket wrapped around you.

“You shouldn’t be out of bed. You need to rest more.” Dean says, worriedly. 

“I’m fine. That potion did the trick. I feel good as new.” You tell him, waving him off gently. You’re actually really happy about how concerned he is for you. 

“What do you mean you know where we could go?” James asks.

“The town I’m from has a coven I used to be part of, before I joined up with the Winchesters. Their High Priestess is very kind and very inclusive. None of them would judge your relationship. They’ve lost several members over the past few years and they could really use a few new members, especially when they’re as talented as you.” You try to pitch it to them. 

“I don’t know…” James says, putting his hands in his pockets. He still looks tired, which you’re sure attributes to his indecision.

“Tell you what, follow me. I’ll take you there, give you and Portia a place to stay. If you don’t like it, y’all could leave. If you do, you can stay.”

“Woah, hold on there sweetheart. What do you mean you can take them?” Dean asks, a little upset.

“I mean, I’m going to drive back to Y/H/T and introduce them to Tara.” He pulls you aside lightly.

“Babe, you were just unconscious for seven hours! And you want to jump into your car and make a drive like that? You need to rest.”

“Dean, I rested. I got plenty of rest and I feel good as new. I can cast a spell just to prove it.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“Honey, let me do this. I’ll drive over, introduce them to the coven, sign the business over to Morgan, close my bank accounts, and then zip right back to the Bunker.”

“Wait, sign the business, close your accounts?” You lean close to him, intimately, and whisper your explanation. 

“Well, yeah. I don’t need that anymore. I’m going to drain my account, I’ve got a few hundred grand saved up, and if I give Morgan the business, then that’s it. Ties cut. I don’t want one foot in the Hunting life and one foot back home. This is me saying goodbye and choosing you. So say you’ll let me go?” He stares at you, with those deep green eyes. A small smile creeps onto his face. 

“You’re going to stay?”

“Of course I am dummy. I already told you, didn’t I? I’m not leaving you.” He kisses you, deeply. And he keeps kissing you until you hear Sam cough behind you. You both separate and your blushing mildly.

“Alright fine, I don’t like it, but fine. But if you go, I want you to call us when you get there. And call us when you’re heading back. And no taking out vamp nests or anything else solo on the way, alright?”

“Alright. Alright. Yeesh, you sure are protective.” You agree, chuckling at him.

“Damn straight I am.” He grabs your cheek and pulls you in, kissing you on the forehead. You turn your cheek into his hand as he pulls away, savoring the feeling of his rough hands. You give him another smile before turning towards James and Portia.

“What do you say? Will you come with me?” The couple looks at each other, having their private conversation, before turning back to you.

“We’ve got nowhere better to go. Sure.” James nods.

“Thank you.” Portia says.

“No problem. And if you want to pick up the police work again, I know that the department there is lacking. Or maybe some small PI work?”

“Maybe.” James says, smiling. 

“Well, we should head out sooner, rather than later right? Get you out of St. Louis ASAP?” James nods. You give Sam a tight squeeze and then Dean a peck. Before you go, he tells you to wait for a second and heads out to his car. When he comes back, he hands you a CD.

“I know your Saturn doesn’t have a cassette player, so here. I figured out how to put the mixtape on a CD. Think about me when you listen to it.” You take it from him and thank him. You’re pretty sure it was his seduction mixtape he had started playing for you earlier. 

“I will.” You promise him, and then lead James and Portia outside. You watch Portia turn into a dog and jump into the passenger’s seat of James’s car. She barks once at you. You smile back and head into your own car. You were going to head home one last time before it would stop being home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first wrote this chapter, I was going to originally to follow the script almost exactly, and then I realized, I had the chance to make a few changes, such as the whole showdown. I really enjoyed writing it and I love being able to explore the use of magic here. 
> 
> Thanks for staying with us and thank you to Squibbles94 for the proofreading!


	17. Cutting Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return home, for what may be the very last time, to close your accounts and reenter the world of the Hunters for good.   
> But you receive more than ominous news from your old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any mistakes or anything weird, please let me know so I can correct it. I didn't have a beta reader for this chapter. We've gotten busy because work is hitting the really crazy time of the year. I may or may not be posting every two weeks instead of every week. I'm so sorry in advance! But I really love updating and writing this!

It really was a seduction album. It started with Cherry Pie by Warrant, then Talk Dirty to Me by Poison, just as you’d heard with Dean. But then it went into the next few songs: You Shook me All Night Long by AC/DC, Feel Like Makin Love by Bad Company, I Touch Myself by Divinyls, Love in an Elevator by Aerosmith, Pour Some Sugar on Me by Def Leppard, Wild Horses by Rolling Stones, Every Rose Has its Thorn by Poison, Angel Eyes by The Jeff Healey Band, I Put a Spell on You by Creedence Clearwater, and finally, Simple Man, but sung by Dean Winchester himself. 

In all the years you had known him, you had only heard him sing a couple of times. He was real shy about it, more than anything else. Only way to get that man to belt a tune was to get him drunk. Or when you and him had had sex for the first time. But here, in your car, was physical evidence of the whiskey and honey voice that crooned out of your stereo. It was a good mixtape, with a fantastic ending that sent shivers down your spine. You were thoroughly seduced, and if it weren’t for the fact that James and Portia were in the car behind you, you would have driven right back to him, breaking the speed limit the entire way home. 

You pulled out your phone and dialed Dean’s number, putting it on speaker so you could pay attention to the road.

“Miss me already?” His voice said. The phone did not do it justice, but my goodness was it good to hear his voice. You’d only been gone for an hour, but there was a little part of you, and you would never admit it, that did indeed miss him.

“Shush you. Just finished your mixtape.”

“And?”

“Fantastic. Especially the last one.”

“Hold up!” He says quickly. In the background, you can hear Sam’s voice, faintly, yell “I want to hear what the last one was!” You smile to yourself. He had himself on speaker and didn’t want his brother to know about having recorded himself singing. 

“So, you liked it?” He asked again, adopting his deep, husky voice whenever he was trying to be sexy. Succeeding would be the better word. 

“I did. How drunk did you have to get for that?”

“Only thing I was drunk on was you.” There’s a pause while you wait for him to be honest. 

“Three shots.” He says shortly. You start laughing. 

“I figured. It’s really sweet Dean. I really appreciate the CD. I love it.”

“I’m glad.”

“And I’ll be home soon. Second I get James settled in, I’ll be heading right back. We’ll be able to test out how well that CD works when we’re both in the room.”

“Oh really?”

“Until then…” You turn the volume up as you switch to the right song. You put the phone up to the speakers as the lyrics blast out, “I don't want anybody else, when I think about you, I touch myself.”

“You are a wicked thing you know that?” He whispers into the phone, you can tell trying to keep Sam from hearing him. 

“Wait for me Dean.” You breathe out.

“Forever baby.” 

“I love you.” There’s a short pause. You wait to see if he’ll say it back, but he doesn’t, and you don’t blame him.

“I’ll see you soon. Drive safe. Text or call me when you get there.”

“Will do. Bye.” You hang up. He didn’t have to say it. You already knew that he loved you. The flowers said it all. He had told you he had researched flowers before hand and picked those on purpose. Each one had a meaning he was trying to convey. The Winchesters were not the type who said, they were the type that did. 

You pull up to the house you had once shared with Alex. You and Alex had never really owned it; it’s his parent’s house. They had decided to move and retire in Boca, Florida. They hadn’t wanted to sell the house, so they left it to Alex. When Alex had died, they let you stay, but there was no official signing over to you. You weren’t sure how long Morgan, James, and Portia would be able to stay here once they find out you left. A part of you wanted to call and tell them what was happening, but another part of you was worried that if you did, they would kick everyone out immediately. Better forgiveness than permission, right?

You exit the car, James and Portia (now in human form) following your example. They pull their small suitcases out filled with any clothes and valuables they had wanted to keep of their former life. They walk over to you, Portia looking around with a smile on her face.

“This house is gorgeous.” She says. 

“Thank you. It belonged to my late husband. It was his childhood home.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Portia says quickly, pity in her face.

“Oh don’t worry! It’s fine. He passed a couple years ago.” You try to smooth things over. “Anyhow, let me show you around. You’ll have a roommate, Morgan. I hope that’s okay?”

“Does she like dogs?” Portia asks. 

“And witches?” James adds.

“Yes and yes. Morgan’s a witch.” You unlock the door, letting them in. You call out to see if Morgan is home, but she doesn’t answer. You look through. It’s clean, which is a good sign. Several of Morgan’s own effects have been put around. She was always into gothic, so there were gargoyle bookends on the fireplace and spider lamps on the end tables. There was a coat rack next to the door now and it was deep black with skulls carved into it. 

“Last time I was here, she insisted on taking the guest room. She felt bad taking the master in case I came back and she said she didn’t need a lot of space. Which is good for you both. The master is down the hallway here and has a connecting bathroom, so you’ll both have your own space.” You take them to the room. It was just as you’d left it; same furniture and decorations. You’d take only your clothes and some pictures. 

“We really appreciate this Y/N.” James says, putting his suitcase on the king sized bed. He sits down, putting his head in his hands, exhausted. It’s been quite an ordeal for him the past couple of weeks, and he still hadn’t had time to rest.

“James, Portia, why don’t you both relax and sleep? I’ll call Morgan and let her know we’re here.” They nod and you can see their shoulders relax. You smile and leave the room, closing the door behind you, to let them be alone. 

You walk to the kitchen to see what Morgan had stocked. There was a lot of vegan and vegetarian options, but you could work with that. You text Morgan, letting her know you were home and you were planning on cooking. You also let her know that you’d brought guests. After twenty minutes, and you were well into the meal, she tells you that that’s perfectly fine and she’d be home in an hour. You text her back, asking if she could call a coven meeting for a few hours later. She responds, “sure will.”

After you finished making tofu meatballs and spaghetti squash, which Morgan had taught you how to make a while back, you hear the front door opening. Morgan walks into the room. Her hair is now a bright purple color, and cut short like a pageboy. She’s wearing leather pants and a burgundy pirate-style coat over a black turtleneck. She looked really good, healthy. She’s put on a little weight and seems happier.

“Hey Morgan.” You give her a hug; it feels like there’s a little meat on her bones. 

“High Priestess!” She hugs you back.

“You look really good!” You tell her, looking her over again.

“Thank you. After you’d left, I finally decided to go see a therapist. I could finally afford it after working at the store.”

“That’s wonderful!” 

“Yeah. I’ve really enjoyed working at the store too. We’ve had a few Hunters come in though. I still get pretty nervous about it.”

“But you’ve followed the script I left you right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. They haven’t suspected anything. They grab the supplies and leave.”

“Good. So, let me tell you a bit about our guests. You hungry?”

“Famished!” You both grab some food and sit at the table. You explain the relationship between Portia and James, about familiars and witches, since you had never really gone into the topic when you were High Priestess. She listens intently to the story about how you battled Spencer at the coven’s base of operations. Morgan’s eyes go wide at the idea of a bar filled with witches and familiars, in comparison to their little coven. Large covens like that aren’t commonplace. They tend to happen in large, main cities, but for the most part, covens keep small. Easier to hide that way.

“Wait, so what did Spencer do to you?”

“He had this spell that could force you to relive your worst nightmares. I’d never seen a witch actually be able to attack another witch like that.”

“What... What did you see?” She asks, nervous and curious. Your face drops. You don’t blame her; anyone would want to know what happened, but you weren’t sure Morgan was the person you wanted to talk to about the moments of your past. Especially your mom’s death. 

“Some of the worst moments of my life.” You say. She doesn’t pry, understanding that you didn’t want to talk any more about it. The mood darkens a little from the exchange. You muster a smile and look at the younger girl. 

“So, why don’t we clean the kitchen up before the others get here? We have work to do!” 

“Yes High Priestess!” As you both clean the dishes and put everything away, putting some food aside for James and Portia, Morgan fills you in on the past month since you had last been. She tells you that the business is going really well and that she really enjoys working there. She tells you how Trevor had helped her figure out how to do the books. She was even able to work out the budget enough to save the business some money each month, which opened up some finances to advertise a bit better. You were real proud of her. 

There’s a knock at the door, which interrupts your conversation. It had to be Tara, and as you walk to the front door to open it, you get an overwhelming sense of deja vu. The last time the coven had gathered, Sherry was still alive and the Winchesters didn’t know what you were. And you and Dean…

“Tara!” You exclaim, hugging her fiercely. Her hair is still a fierce red, but it’s longer. Her face seems fuller, like she’d finally put on a little weight. Losing her boyfriend had aged her, but now she seemed far more recovered. Being in charge suited her. 

“I felt your coming. It will be nice to have you here one last time.” She says serenely, walking inside.

“Last?” You ask curiously, about to close the door, when Trevor and Carla showed up at the door. He smiles at you and waves. It seems he’s already forgiven you from the last time you had both interacted. His dreads are tied back into a ponytail and Carla’s wild curls have been released and they tumble down her shoulder. 

“Hey you two, it’s been a while.” You tell them. Carla is a little more hesitant and you notice that Trevor gives her a light tap before her face softens and she goes to hug you. You hug her back.

“How’ve you been? How’s the world?” Trevor asks you.

“Falling apart, but apparently that’s pretty common.” You half joke, although you don’t go into more detail. You move to the side and let the couple inside, closing the door behind them. You stand at the archway into the living room, watching your small coven interact. You loved being with the Winchesters, but there was something comforting with seeing your old group all gathered again. It was nostalgic and felt like so long ago since the last time you’d all gathered. 

“So, how’s the planning going?” Morgan asks Carla and Trevor.

“We started looking for a venue. First a venue, then a date.” Carla tells them.

“We haven’t decided if we want it small and in town, or large and destination.” Trevor continues. _Venue? Date? Oh my goodness!_

“You got engaged?!” You exclaimed, plopping down on the couch next to Carla. “Ring?” She puts her left hand out and shows you a beautiful, and modest, diamond ring. It was perfect for her.

“Oh Carla, Trevor, congratulations!” 

“Thank you. He proposed a couple weeks ago.” Carla tells you, smiling and blushing a little. They looked at each other, an air of love passing between them. There’s a pang in your chest as you find yourself missing Dean. A little part of you nags and wonders if you and Dean would ever have a chance at settling down. You push it away. What you had with Dean was new. And now you were a full blown Hunter again. Families weren’t exactly easy in this life. 

You hear the master bedroom door open and turn around to see Portia and James coming out. They were wearing fresh, clean clothes and looked well rested. James especially looked better. The circles under his eyes weren’t nearly as dark and his hair was brushed and tamed. He smiles warily, raising his hand in the air in greeting. Portia is holding his arm and smiling at the group as well. 

“James, Portia, this is the Supernatural Book Club. Club, this is James and Portia.” You introduce the group. Each member says hello in turn. You make a point to introduce Tara, the new High Priestess and leader of the coven. She rises from the floor and approaches James, looking at him and through him in her normal way. Portia watches carefully and James seems uncomfortable and she looks into her eyes. 

“He has a gentle soul. I sense no evil in you.” She says quietly. You wonder if Tara had taken to examining people more carefully since Sherry had betrayed everyone. She puts her hand to his cheek. “You have seen such horrible things. They scar your essence, but you will heal. I see an anchor and an end to drifting.” She tells him, before smiling lightly and returning to her seat. James just stares at her, his eyes wide and questioning.

“Tara has a gift. She can sense a lot about a person and their fate. I would listen to her words.” You offer an explanation. Portia seems unaffected by Tara’s actions, and only looks to you, asking if there were food. You tell her that there is a tupperware in the fridge for her and for James, but James declines a meal. He tells Porta that he isn’t really hungry. 

“Why don’t you take a seat James. We’re going to start soon.” Morgan points to the empty ottoman. 

“Start?” He asks curiously, taking a seat.

“Last time we met, we were interrupted. We need to cast this protection charm over the town soon or risk a lot of dangers.” Carla explains.

“Now that there are six of us, we’ll have enough people to complete the ritual.” Trevor continue. 

“What kind of ritual?”

“Think of it like putting a large bubble over the town, but only humans or some real powerful mojo can get through. It keeps out the occasional vamp or werewolf, helps keep the presence of ghosts to a minimal, and can even stop low level demons from wandering in.” You explain the spell to James. Everyone starts pulling out the ingredients for the spell. Like before, everyone starts pulling out their ingredients. 

“Morgan, the Book please.” Tara asks. 

“I’ll get the water for the cauldron.” You offer. When Tara nods to you, you get up, grabbing the cauldron, and walk to the kitchen. You see Portia poking through the kitchen and cabinets, stopping to smell a food item every so often. 

“Everything alright?” You ask curiously, putting the cauldron under the sink and turning on the faucet.

“Meat? The spaghetti is fine, but it’s tofu…” She responds, and you almost burst out laughing.

“I’m afraid not Portia. Morgan is a vegan. You won’t find a single animal product in the house.” Portia turns to look at you, her eyes wide. 

“You have to be joking?”

“It’s just temporary. You and James can find another place to stay and then stock the fridge with whatever you want then.”

“I suppose.” She says, a little deflate. She grabs the tupperware of vegan pasta and takes it into the dining room to eat. You smile after her and bring the cauldron back into the living room, placing it under the fire. You step back, allowing Tara to take the lead on the ritual. You show James the chant from the Book of Shadows as the others set the candles and crystals up. He nods after looking at it for a bit, committing the spell to memory. Tara would have the hard part. James just had to listen and then jump in and repeat the same line, asking for protection. 

You hand Tara the Book of Shadows. She takes it, smiling at you, and starts dropping the herbs into the boiling cauldron. She starks evoking the four elements and the Spirit, and you and the rest of the coven behind the chant asking for protection and evoking light. The candles light by themself around you, interacting with the magic of the spell. The crystals begin to glow with energy. All were signs that the spell was taking effect.

As you all continued, and as Tara continued to evoke the elements, you half expected a knock on the door, the Winchesters having changed their mind and shown up to get you. You smile to yourself, continuing the chant. You wanted to finish this before you left back to the Bunker, so you concentrated. It was hard for the coven to do this spell without a more experienced witch. It took some major magic, but with James there, you were sure the spell would be even stronger than usual. 

You open your eyes as Tara finishes the spell, and watch a bright, warm light burst out from the coven. The light washes over the six of you, filling you with a warm, familiar feeling, like that of a child being protected by a parent. It continues to move out from the house and you know that it is enveloping the city limits. James stares at all of you.

“I’ve never felt anything like that before.” He says.

“Thank you. It’s a spell of my own making.” You tell him, standing up. You don’t feel nearly as weak as usual, and you were sure that it had something to do with James having been involved. 

“And that will keep this place safe?” He asks. 

“Yep!” You answer back. 

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed. You should go eat James. You used a bit of magic on that spell and you’ve been through a lot.” You tell him. Morgan, Carla, and Trevor start to clean the place up a bit. You smile at everyone and excuse yourself, going out into the patio. You always felt serene after the ritual and liked to take the moment to reflect alone. You stare up at the stars, grateful for your life. The feeling of weaving magic, of doing good, made you feel whole. And now that you were out and open with your family, you felt even more at peace. There had always been a part of you that had to hide, that felt ashamed of what you were and what you did, but that feeling had finally started to fade away. 

“I am happy for you.” You jump slightly at the sound of Tara’s soft voice.

“Oh, High Priestess.” You greet her with the title she has now earned officially, after leading a major ritual. She nods her head at you in recognition. “You did a great job with the ceremony.”

“Thank you.” She stands next to you, looking up at the stars as you did.

“Is everything okay Tara?” You ask her, a little concerned. She was always quiet and peculiar, but something about the way she has been acting seems a little different. A little more...off.

“Your life, it splits. I see two possibilities, one that leads to completeness and a feeling of joy. There is a wholeness in it, a beauty in the simplicity. But the other ends in heartache, marked with betrayal by one you trust, an endless battle and a deepening darkness. I cannot see which is on the horizon.” 

“What causes the split? Is it a decision I make?” You ask her, concerned.

“No. Not you. You do not control your fate.”

“Excuse me?”

“We are all but whims to the universe. This one is not ours to control, we are but puppets, speaking words that are placed into our heads by others.”

“Tara, you don’t make any sense.”

“Ah yes, you are right. What little sense this world makes. The bends, the twists. The story unfolds and no one knows it’s ending, not those living it, not those viewing it, not even the one creating it. Is that not amusing? How unpredictable life can be.” She continues, staring up at the stars. You don’t know what she’s looking at, but as usual, you get the sense that she is seeing beyond where she is looking. Perhaps she is looking at the Creator. You wonder if Tara has the ability to see Him. 

“Right….” You respond, a little unsettled by her words. She turns to look at you now, staring into your eyes. You want to look away, but you can’t, and her eyes suddenly become intense. She grabs you on the shoulder, rooting you to the spot.

“There is much despair to come in your future, no matter which way the story branches. You will have hard decisions to make. Trust your own and stick to the decision you make. Hesitation means death. Death means despair for all you desire and for the safety of this world. You have chosen a hard life Hunter. But you will be rewarded, no matter the outcome.” You had never heard her words come so strong. Normally, she spoke with an airiness of a person whose attention was always split. Now, her entire awareness is on you, and the strength of her prophecy shook you to your core. 

She lets go of you and shakes her head lightly, as if she is breaking a trance of some kind. She blinks, looks around confused, and then smiles at you. “Y/N, I think the protection ritual took a little more out of me than I had thought. I think I’m going to go home now. Good night.”

“Tara!” You call to her as she heads down the steps. She turns slowly to you.

“Yes?”

“What you just said, what do you mean?”

“Said?” She looks at you curiously. She must not have realized what she prophesied… 

“Earlier. You said this would be the last time you saw me.”

“Oh yes. I do not think our paths will cross again. The stars do not show it. Not in this lifetime, at least. Walk tall Hunter, I sense a foreboding presence in your future.” The airiness in her voice contrasts what she had said earlier, but the message rings the same. You have a bad feeling that no matter what happens from here, you and the Winchesters weren’t going to fare too well. You hope Sam can make it through the Trials okay. 

You wave at Tara as she walks away. _What a strange way to say goodbye to someone for the last time._ You think to yourself as you watch the red of her hair fade away. She didn’t drive to the house this time, but chose to walk. _What a strange girl…_ You think again, returning to the house to finish packing away the ritual. You wanted to go to sleep soon. Sooner you went to sleep, the sooner you could return to the Winchesters.


	18. Are Angels Better than Demons?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 17: Goodbye Stranger  
> You tag along on a hunt that may be about demons as you wait for Kevin to finish translating the second tablet. Along the way, you finally get to meet the famous Castiel. You aren't too impressed...

You said goodbye to James, Portia, and Morgan, hoping the three could get along without you there. You’d had a restless night before, plagued with nightmares of being betrayed, or having happiness snatched from you. Morgan suggested resting a little longer, but you were anxious to get home. You texted Dean saying you had a couple more errands to run and then you’d be heading back. 

You had drafted a bunch of paperwork and printed it out the night before to sign the business over to Morgan. All you had to do was get it notarized at the bank, withdraw your checking and savings and then you could leave. It took a couple of hours to cross the t’s and dot the i’s, but you did it. And with about fifteen thousand dollars cash in your pocket, you were ready to go home. To your new home, what you are sure will be your permanent home. 

You stop at the sign that announced “Welcome to Y/H/T,” population etc. You park and walk over to it. The last two time you had left, you had the intention of coming back. But now, after what Tara had said, it felt like you wouldn’t be coming again. You look at the population number and think to yourself, _one less_. With a heavy sigh of closing a chapter in your book, you head back to the car and drive to Lebanon, Kansas. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Dean had been ecstatic having you back. He had immediately whisked you away to fulfill your promise of trying out the mixtape. And boy had you enjoyed it. And every other time you had both played it in the following weeks. 

You were happy to see that the potion you had been brewing for Sam was working. Once in a while, he would get a bad cough, but you would hand him the elixir and he seemed to recover quickly. You were pretty sure that if you hadn’t been around, Sam would be a lot more worse for wear. You were surprised that he was still showing wear and tear though and you had a bad feeling that the spell took not from his life energy, but from his soul… You really hope you’re wrong. 

You don’t tell the brothers about what Tara had said. In fact, after being back for a week, you find yourself beginning to forget her warning, preferring it to fade away. As you settle back into the routine you had created with the brothers, it makes it easier. You wake up in the morning, you make breakfast for you and the boys, you help Sam do research on the demon tablet, Sam grabs something for lunch, you and Dean do research on anything to Hunt in the area, you both make dinner, you listen as Dean lectures Sam on the trials and makes sure he’s okay, then you and Dean finish the night by having some really great sex, before waking up and starting the day over again. 

There had been a couple of cases that had interrupted the routine. You and the boys had been called away on a possible zombie sighting. That had ended up being far more interesting than a with doctor curse gone horribly wrong. The zombie had actually turned out to be Prometheus, who was now going by the name of Shane and had a wife and a son. You had ended up coming face to face with THE Zeus and Artemis from Greek mythology. You were proud to say you did not shit your pants at the might of the King of the Greeks. 

And with that done, you and the boys were back to cataloguing the Bunker’s many artifacts while you wait for Kevin to translate the next trial of the demon tablet. You’re unpacking several texts on various types of magics and lore, categorizing them to put on the shelves in the Bunker’s library, when you hear Dean exclaim, “What the hell is this?” He had been quiet lately, so you look up curiously. He has a box with a spearhead in it. 

“What’s the card say?”

“Spear of Destiny.” Dean reads. He looks at you. “Is this God’s toothpick or something?”

“Spear of Destiny.” You chew the name trying to recall information. “Oh, that’s the spear that was used by a Roman soldier to pierce Jesus during the crucifiction.” You tell him, turning back to your own box.

“Damn, your mind is a steel trap. How’d you remember that?”

“School.” You shrug nonchalantly. You had to take several theology classes to go along with your study of the supernatural. Anything with lore was important when studying magic. You pick up a book that that is in Aramaic. It’s not very thick, maybe about 20 pages. It’s written in old papyrus and bound in some kind of animal skin. You hear Sam and Dean talking in the background, but something about the book calls to you. You sit down in front of the box, trying to decipher the language to figure out what kind of spell book it is. After several minutes, the closest translation you could muster was: Book of Rejuvenation. You open it and there are several spells from what you could see, all having to do with healing cuts, wounds, broken bones, if the pictures were of any indication. This could really come in handy in the field!

“Hey, what do you have there?” Dean’s voice startles you from behind.

“Jeez Dean.” You snap at him, your heart pounding. You had been distracted with the book. “It’s a spellbook filled with healing spells. If I can translate it, I’ll be able to copy a few into my grimoire and we’ll have a few quick heals when we’re in the field.” You show him the book, feeling proud of your discovery. You notice a book in Dean’s hand. 

“What about you? What’d you find?” You ask curiously. He hides it behind his back, his cheeks turning pink. Your eyes narrow in suspicion. “Dean.”

“Sammy, you find anything?” He calls, backing out of the library and towards the War Room, where Sam is searching for cases. You follow closely, spellbook in hand, trying to see what Dean was hiding from you. 

“I did, yeah, uh, dead bodies showing up all over the Midwest last week.” Sam replies as you both walk into the room, his eyes on the laptop.”Benton, Indiana; Downers Grove, Illinois; Novi, Michigan; and then again last night in Lincoln Springs, Missouri.”

“And how is this us?” Dean asks. 

“Because each of the victims had severe burns around their eyes, hands, and feet, puncture wounds through the backs of their hands, eyes and internal organs liquified.”

“Seriously ew.” You comment. Dean smacks his lips, nodding in confirmation.

“That sounds like us.” He says. Sam goes on to explain that none of the victims have any links. One was a real-estate agent, another a historian, and the most recent was a teacher. None of you three seemed to have a clue as to what the link could be. Sam suggests that you should all pack up and leave as soon as possible. Dean nods in agreement and as he moves to walk towards his room, you snatch the book out of his hand. 

Upon inspection, you notice it isn’t a book at all, but a magazine. Your lips curl in malicious delight as you read the title cover, Dean’s eyes going wide in shock. The magazine is entitled “Appreciation of Asian Lovelies.” Sam is smirking as you cock an eyebrow in Dean’s direction.

“Hey, I just found that among all of the other artifacts.” He tries to say innocently, his hands lifting in the air in defense. You skim through it. There are several woman in various poses and various states of dress. 

“Cool, I think I’lI keep this, thank you.” You say as you walk to your own bedroom, throwing a wink over your shoulder at the boys. You enjoy the dumbfounded look on Dean’s face. You didn’t have any plans to actually use it, although the women in the magazine were indeed beautiful, but you couldn’t pass up an opportunity to tease the Winchester brothers. And Sam looked just as mortified as Dean did. Oh did you love your boys and you relished every moment you could spend with them. 

After several hours of driving, of which you spent a considerable amount trying to translate the Aramaic words into a cohesive spell, as well as trying to understand what ingredients would be required, you arrived at your destination. The Impala parks outside of a two story house painted in red, blue, and yellow. Typically, you wouldn’t think those colors worked well, but the house was nice looking. You step out of the car, all three in Fed suits. Sam had gotten around to make more FBI badges for you. Officially, you no longer had to pretend to be a “junior agent,” although Dean had joked about teaching you protocol one on one anytime you wanted, raising his eyebrows suggestively at you. You’d given a light punch in response. 

An older gentleman, balding at the top, opened the door to greet you all. His graying goatee was unkempt and his eyes were red from crying. He stuffed a handkerchief into his pocket as he greeted the group of Federal Agents. Sam introduced everyone and then said, “We just have a few routine follow-up questions about your wife, sir.”

“My wife? Why would the FBI-” He starts to reply, but you interrupt him. 

“Sir, we have reason to believe that a pattern may be forming. The Bureau sent us to investigate.”

“Right. Sorry, come in.” He steps aside allowing you all to enter before leading you into the living room. Sam opens a notepad and looks at Mr. Morton, the spouse of the teacher who had died just a few nights ago. 

“Did she have any enemies?” 

“Ann? Honestly, I can’t think of a soul who’d want to hurt her, even after everything that happened.” Your ears perk up. Before you can ask him to elaborate, Dean beats you to the punch. Mr. Morton goes on to explain that a week earlier, she had changed and started acting differently. Sam asked what he meant by that, and Mr. Morton said it would be easier to show you all. He leads the three of you to a basement. When he turns on a switch, only half the basement lights up. It’s incredibly dark and difficult to see, which has you feeling a little trappish. You hang back near the stairs just in case as Mr. Morton continues to explain.

“She stopped sleeping. She stopped eating. She went out in the middle of the night going God knows where. I tried to talk to her, but, uh, she would just mutter to herself.” It seemed to sound like a classic possession to your, or a body switch. There’s a large table on the lit side of the basement, which seems to have a small village on it with plastic bags dangled over the table. You cock your head to get a better look at it. 

“What did she mutter about?” Sam asks. Mr. Morton explains that she kept referring to an orchard and was digging in various places. The plastic baggies were filled with dirt from places she had dug at. The little village seemed to be a replica of the town. 

“Were these holes, uh, I don’t know, six feet deep?” Dean asks, staring at the replica. 

“No. She dug for hours. She never broke a sweat. Straight down ten, maybe fifteen feet.” Mr. Morton explains. Dean looks towards you to gauge your reaction, his lips pursed, but you remained straight faced, absorbing everything Mr. Morton was saying. Sam asks Mr. Morton if there was anything else he had noticed that was strange. 

“I didn’t say anything to the cops ‘cause I didn’t want them to think I was crazy. After Ann came home, I came down here to confront her, and she was on the phone.” That in itself didn’t seem too out of place, depending on who she had been talking to. Which Dean asked about. 

“I don’t know who she was talking to, but I know what I saw. It wasn’t my Annie. After I called out, her eyes...they turned black!” He breathed out, shocked himself by what he had seen. The three of you exchanged looks though, knowing exactly what that meant. Demon. Mr. Morton continued on, saying he had went to the bar after that, thinking he had imagined it or maybe he had had too much to drink. He didn’t cry though, just became very quiet and solemn. Sam makes the usual apology to the surviving family of victims, but you have your eyes on the dirt.

“May I take one of these bags? If you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, sure. But why?” He asks, confused.

“Federal business sir, you understand.” He nods and you grab the bag of dirt from the most recent dig, pointed out to you by Mr. Morton. You put it in your inside pocket and Mr. Morton quietly leads you outside. When the door closes, you look at the boys. 

“Demons. Showing up not long after the first Trial?”

“Think they’re looking for the Tablet?” Dean asks you.

“Maybe? I was going to do a little mojo on the dirt, see if there’s anything special about it.” You tell them, walking down the stairs of the house’s front porch. 

“Either way, somebody’s killing demons and that is awesome. We should send them a card or flowers. Y/N, what kind of flower says, ‘thanks for killing demons?’” 

“Peach roses or bellflowers.” You say, without missing a beat. The boys just stare at you. “What?” You ask them, wondering why they were staring at you so strangely. Was it really so odd to know about flowers? You’d been looking into them since Dean’s bouquet. 

“Well, who’s killing demons? And why?” Sam asks, changing the subject back to the case at hand. “And since when does a demon possession lead to someone going all “Beautiful Mind” and start digging in the dirt?”

“Who cares? Dead demons.” Dean says like a child in a candy shop. You and Sam exchange a glance before sighing at him. Dean drives towards Wendy Rice’s house, the last person to talk to Mrs. Morton before she died, while Sam makes phone calls to the spouses of the other victims. He wanted to compare if the previous victims had similar behavioral changes as Mrs. Morton. You spend the time buried in your spellbook, almost done with the translation on one you were pretty sure could be used to close cut wounds and mend skin. That could help when you weren’t able to get your hands on a surgical needle and thread.

The next stop is at another nice house, one that belonged to a historian named Wendy Rice. Sam had made several phone calls on the way and tells you both that the other two victims had the same obsessive behavior, but neither had seen them with black eyes. You and the Winchesters were still convinced that they were also possessed by a demon. Wendy Rice held the key to what they were looking for though. 

You knocked on the door and a middle aged white woman, her hair pulled into large blue and purple curlers, opened the door. She had bird-like features, with a long face and a nose that reminded you of a beak.

“Special Agent Lynne. These are my partners, Special Agent Tandy and Special Agent Wood. We’d like to ask you a few questions about Ann Morton.” Sam introduced everyone once more. You were Wood and Dean was Tandy. She chuckled self-consciously, playing with her curlers. You could understand her nerves. Here were two very attractive men at her door, and she was in her pajamas. 

“Of course, please come in. I had never met her before she called the other night.” She moved to the side and the three of you walked in. She motioned to the living room and the four of you all took a seat on the couches. Her living room was very pleasant and well lit. 

“Why was she calling you?” Sam asks. 

“She was looking to find an original map of the city.” Wendy answered.

“Did she say why she needed it?” Sam continues to question her as you write down the information she gives you. 

“Well, she...she didn’t, but she did mention an old orchard that had gone missing.” Wendy says and you write down the information. 

“What do you mean by missing?” Dean asks, a little aggressively, per usual Dean fashion. 

“This town was wiped from the earth by one of the river’s one hundred year floods. It was--it was rebuilt. But all the original records were, well they were lost.” She started playing with her curlers again, smiling with self-confidence. “I’m a PhD candidate and this is my research. I, uh, my dissertation is on the history of this town, and uh, it’s connection…” She continues to nervously explain her research topic. You can tell that Dean, like yourself, it completely uninterested in it, although Sam seems to be hanging on her every word. You finally perk up when she pulls out a map from a bright pink binder that she says is a recreation of what the town once looked like. She points out the old Jakubiak orchard.

“Did Ann say why she was looking for the site of an old orchard?” Sam asks, looking over the map. Wendy tells them that she had set a time to meet with Ann, but she had never showed up. She then went on to say that Ann’s assistant had called that morning, though, asking if she still had the map. As soon as she said that, like the universe had been waiting for the perfect cue, there were several knocks on the door.

“That’s probably him. Maybe he can help.” She says. She goes to answer the door, and Sam and Dean follow her. You stay back a bit, pulling your knife out and your small grimoire. Something bothered you about the timing.

You hear the door open and suddenly hear Wendy’s scream and Dean and Sam are alert and in full battle stance. Three demons burst into the living room, each one going to someone to attack. The larger of the three, with brown hair and a rough face with a shadow, goes straight towards Sam. The smaller of the three, who seemed to be the youngest and most scrawny, went straight towards Wendy, grabbing at her. The third and final demon, who was possessing a medium sized blonde man, attacked Dean. 

A large, confusing fight ensues and you watch as the smaller man picked up Wendy and threw her across the room. You slam into her though, breaking her fall. If you hadn’t been there, she probably would have crashed right into the coffee table. Instead, she had fallen on you. You felt the wind get knocked out of you and you watch as the same small demon that attacked Wendy grabs at the map and makes for the door. You shove Wendy off and throw a small fireball at him, to keep him from running. It slams into the wall, leaving a scorch mark. 

“Where you going handsome? I think you and I could really light a candle together.” You say viciously. It’s eyes flick black and it snarls at you. It’s eyes dart towards the door again and you flick the door shut with your telekinesis.

“I don’t think that belongs to you.” You run ahead and try to punch the demon. It ducks out of the way of your fist and it’s fist connects with your stomach. You feel the wind leave you and you cough and gasp from the impact. You see it pull it’s fist back for another attack, but you throw your arm up just in time to block it and bring your leg up, slamming him right in the family jewels. Demon or not, it was possessing a man and could probably feel that. 

It’s eyes squeeze in pain and it grips it’s groin, faltering. You snatch the map from its hand, throwing the map back behind you. You grab the back of its head and try to slam your knee into the face of the possessed man, hoping to knock it out to perform an exorcism. Before your attack can connect, it snatches your leg and pushes up, throwing you off balance. As you fall back, the demon takes the opportunity to run out the door. You curse in anger as it runs away. 

You turn around to see Dean being thrown off his demon, right before Dean tries to stab it with the demon killing blade. It runs towards the door and Dean starts to chase after it. Wendy is screaming in fear in the corner of the room. But Sam, Sam was underneath his demon. Dean seemed to have his target under control, so you rush to help Sam. Before you get there, another man appears, seemingly out of nowhere and grabs the demon that was on top of Sam. 

Instead of pulling the demon off of Sam though, he calmly places his hand on the demon’s head. There’s a flash of bright white light and the body falls to the floor, it’s eyes burned out. You also notice that the man has the other demon in hand, holding onto the collar of his jacket. It looks confused and dazed. Dean runs up next to you and you both stare at the new player. 

He turns around to look at you both. He’s wearing a large tan coat over a blue suit. His expression is cold and robotic and he stares with anger at Dean. He has a small 5 o'clock shadow on his chin and his hair is messy and uncombed. 

“Who the hell are you?” You say, finally breaking the silence. The man ignores you though and drags the blonde haired demon to the kitchen table. You look to Dean for answers, who is just staring in disbelief at the man. 

“Dean?” You try to get his attention.

“Sorry. Sorry. That’s Castiel.” He tells you, shaking himself.

“The angel you said was supposed to be helping you?” You ask incredulously. 

“Yeah.” He says, before heading into the kitchen. You move to help Sam up, who angrily paws your hand away.

“I got it.” He snaps, pushing himself back onto his feet.

“No need to be an ass.” You bite back, moving to check on Wendy. It seems that all of the excitement had been too much for her though because she was passed out on the floor next to the coffee table, her map lying next to her. You pocket the map. 

“I’m going to bring her to one of the rooms. Be right back.” You announce into the air. You bend down and try to lift her into a wedding carry, but she’s much heavier and bigger than she looks. You end up just settling on a drag, hooking your arms under her shoulders and pulling her into the hallway. You find a bedroom towards the end of the hallway and try to get her into bed, which is much easier than when you had tried to lift her. You can hear voices from the living room. One of them is deep and raspy, which you believe belongs to Castiel. After you settle Wendy Rice into her bed, hoping she just thinks of the whole experience as a bad dream, you reenter the living room. 

There’s a lot of tension between Dean and Castiel when you walk into the room. Dean is leaning forward and his face is hard. You can see the tension in his jaw, which normally means he’s pissed as all hell. 

“Lucifer had crypts?” He asked, after Castiel explained that Crowley, who you had learned was the new king of Hell, had sent demons out to find Lucifer’s crypts. Dean did not seem to buy Castiel’s explanation. 

“Dozens of them, apparently.” Castiel explains. You’re not sure what to make of him. This is the first time you had ever seen an angel before. He didn’t seem any different that other people, except for the way he spoke. He seemed so distant, like part of his focus was on something else. And the way he spoke was so...inhuman. 

“But why the storage wars? I mean, what the hell are they looking for?” Sam asks, sitting forward as well. You let the boys talk, leaning against the wall. You weren’t too tired. You had noly cast two spells, so you were pretty fine. But you did have a few places where you felt the bruises forming. Castiel tells the Winchesters that they’re looking for a parchment that would have the key to unlocking the Demon Tablet without needing Kevin. He then went on to explain the crypts had been lost over time and since only those closest to Lucifer knew where they were, Crowley’s demons had been possessing locals who may have had knowledge to their whereabouts. 

“That would explain the crazy room at Ann’s house.” Sam rationalizes. You hear Dean sniff in anger. You look up at him. There’s the familiar tick in his jaw and you can tell he’s holding back and his anger is festering. When Castiel finally leaves the room, saying he planned on interrogating the demon, Dean looks over at Sam and says,

“Well, he puts the ‘ass’ in ‘Cas,’ huh?”

“He’s definitely off.” Sam agrees. But that doesn’t seem to be enough for Dean.

“Off? He hasn’t been right since he got back from Purgatory. We still don’t know how he got out of there.” He says angrily. You didn’t know much about Dean’s year in Purgatory. You didn’t want to ask him about it because you didn’t want to force him to relive painful memories, but you had to admit, the curiosity was killing you. You made a mental note to ask him another time. 

“I don’t know, Dean. If he’s so sketchy, then why were you praying to him?” Sam snaps back. Dean doesn’t reply back and you feel bad for him. Of course Dean prayed to Castiel. You didn’t know much, but from the way the boys had talked about him, Castiel had been important to them both. Although you weren’t really sure why. Castiel seemed to be a bit of a dick.

“You know, I can hear you both. I am a celestial being.” You hear his voice from the kitchen. You make a mental note to add, a dick with a sense of humour. 

Sam and Dean make their way to the kitchen, and as they walk by, you grab Dean’s arm. He lets you stop him and looks to you.

“You okay Dean?” You ask him, searching his face for any indication of what he was feeling, but all you could see was anger. His eyes soften as he smiles.

“Fine. What about you? I saw you flinging some spells earlier. You good? You’re not tired or anything right?” His hand cups your chin affectionately. 

“It’ll take a lot more than two measly spells to take me down. But we’re not talking about me. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“We should really worry about the demon first.” He replies, deflecting the question. Dean never wanted to talk about his feelings unless it was to express anger. You wish he would open up a bit more, just once in a while, rather than bottling things up and then exploding. The man was a ticking time bomb. But rather than express that to him, you just sigh and let it go. He was right, there was a demon and an interrogation that needed to be done. And so you follow Dean Winchester into the kitchen, where you see the blonde haired demon tied to a chair and surrounded by a demon trap. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester? Along with their pets.” Its hands are fastened to the table and it chuckles.

“Listen here bitch, I am no one’s -” Before you can finish yelling, Castiel stabs his angel blade through the back of one of its hands. “Oh shit!” You breathe out as the demon screams. When Castiel pulls the blade out of it hand, sparks fly from the weapon. It pants in pain. You look to the boys standing next to you, both wide eyed in shock. Whatever Castiel was, you had a feeling he wasn’t always this rash, this impersonal, and this aggressive. 

“Who told you about the crypts?” His voice, like gravel, asks, unfazed by his brutality. Demon or not, you are thrown off by the brutality. There was still a person under the possession. 

“I thought angels were supposed to be the good cops.” It coughs out, laughing again. Before you can move, Castiel impales its other hand and it screams again, sparks flying once more. 

“Castiel!” You scream, at the same time that it screams out, begging for the angel to stop the torture.

“We have a hostage!” It pants out and Castiel wrenches the blade out of its hand. It’s still gasping from the pain of the blade. You had never seen one like it before, long and completely silver. It was an elegant weapon and you wonder what kind of magic was imbued in it that could harm a demon like this.

“It’s one of Crowley’s pets.” The demon continues. “She’s at the Murray Hotel, down by the interstate where all the crypts are buried. She saw them all back in the day.”

“And she told you about the parchment?” Sam asks. 

“What parchment?” It barks at Sam. It’s face is screwed up in pain and confusion at Sam’s question. 

“Hey. Hey!” Dean barks, moving towards the table and staring down the demon. “Think he’s the only bad cop in this room? Stop lying! We know what you’re looking for.” Demons weren’t the most trustworthy beings, filled with hatred and anger and murderous intent, but you had a sixth sense for this thing. Maybe the magic, or maybe women’s intuition, you felt something was off. The demon had no clue what Sam had been talking about. 

“No. I am telling you, we’re looking-” Before the demon can say what it was looking for, Castiel’s blade plummets into the chest of the blonde man. Sparks fly from its chest and the entire body lights up, like a visible electrical current running through it, before the vessel falls forward, limp and dead. What kind of blade was the angel using?

“It told us what we needed.” Castiel explains after Sam angrily shouts at him. His eyes are cold. It wasn’t just a demon Castiel had killed, but the man who had been possessed as well. Demons took their hosts unwillingly and now that man was dead. 

“No he didn’t! You can’t just-” Sam argues back. Dean’s eyes are wide, his mouth open in shock as he stares back and forth between Castiel and Sam. You stand towards the back, hand over your mouth, unsure of what to do. 

“I started this hunt without you because I didn’t want anything to slow me down. We have to get to the motel now.”

“Hold on a second-” There’s a rustling noise, like wings being unfurled, cutting Sam’s words off. In an instant, Castiel disappears. The boys start calling for Castiel, but your eyes are on the dead body. You would think, after all the times you’d been around death, it wouldn’t shock you so much, but every other death had been a struggle. There was always the element of kill or be killed. Here, the demon was unarmed. They could have done an exorcism, taken their time, done this right. Instead, an _angel of the Lord_ , an entity who proclaimed “thou shalt not kill” had murdered in cold blood.

“Y/N, we gotta go. Did you hear me?” Dean’s voice cuts through the haze, his hand wrapped around your arm and pulling you out of the door, leaving behind the slumped dead body. The three of you jump into the Impala and Dean is driving before the doors can even close. The last thing you think about as Wendy Rice’s house disappears in the distance is how sad it’s going to be when she wakes up to find that body there…

Dean drives like a mad man towards the hotel, Sam shouting directions from the GPS. As Murray Hotel, a large rundown red brick building, comes into view, he slams the brakes of the Impala. The tires squeal and the car screeches to a halt. All three of you jump out of the car and from the middle window of the third floor, can see a flash of light similar to the light you had seen when Castiel had killed the other demons.

“There. There!” Sam points, rushing ahead, Dean behind him. You follow up the rear, calling upon your magic and throwing the entrance open ahead for Sam to rush through. There’s a homeless man who just stares at you all as you run, but you ignore him. Even if he told someone what he saw, who would believe him? And besides, you had bigger problems to take care of at the moment. You continue to run, down the hall, up the stairs, down another hall, trying to make it in time. The boys needed answers and if Castiel rescued the hostage and left before you can all get there, this case was as good as over.

You hear screaming from inside a room and a crackling, like electricity. Before Dean can slam the door open, you use your magic once more, allowing him entry. The boys go in first and you watch as two bodies drop to the floor, seering, their eyes empty black holes. The three of you are panting and you look up to see Castiel standing casually over the corpses. It was official. You did not like Castiel and had a feeling you probably wouldn’t like any angels for that matter. 

“Thanks for waiting.” Sam snaps, still trying to catch his breath.

“The hostage is in there.” Castiel replies monotone, indicating his head towards a side door. The Winchesters walk forward towards the door on the other side of the room, but you just wait at the front entrance, staring down at this almighty angel of the Lord. He stares back.

“What?” He asks, looking you up and down.

“Nothing.” You spit out.

“I can see it.” He responds.

“See what?”

“You and Dean are together. I can tell.”

“Yeah, and that’s none of your business Angel.” You walk past him and the two bodies, hearing a woman’s voice coming from the other room. You look behind Dean to see a bloody mess of a woman. She has stringy, curly blonde hair and is wearing jeans and a jean jacket, leaning against a tiled wall. 

“Oh, who’s the side piece Winchesters?” She smirks.

“I’m sorry, do you both know her?” You ask, confused.

“Oh yes they do. And I know Sammy on an _intimate_ level.” She smiles and her eyes flash black.

“Shit. She’s a demon?” You step back, and then her words hit you and you look to Sam. “Intimate?” You ask, surprised and a little disgusted.

“Not like that!” He exclaims. “She possessed me. But not that.” He tries to explain. You can almost make out something under Dean’s breath though that sort of sounded like, “wouldn’t be the first time.” You had a lot of questions, which you were planning to ask later. Dean goes up to her and uses his blade to cut the ropes free. She massages her hands and thanks him, trying to pull herself up from the floor. Dean helps her up and walks her to the bed. You’re taken back by this action. Why would Dean help a demon?

You keep back, just observing everything, trying to come up with a reason behind all of this. Maybe the boys owed her a favor? A lot can happen with Hunters. Dean grabs a couple of arm chairs and brings them over around the bed. He offers you a seat, which you take next to Sam. Dean sits down in front of her, on the bed, his face still stone and serious. Castiel, who had remained silent, moved to stand in front of the window. You were all circled around the blonde demon.

“So, I gotta ask. What’s up with the hair?” Dean starts, and the two begin a banter like they’re old work mates. You can see the seething anger under her words, despite her keeping a smile on her face. Sam, impatient with them both, asks the question and starts the real business. 

“Wait a second. You’ve been telling Crowley the location of Lucifer’s crypts.” 

“What can I say? I needed a break from the constant torture.” She replies in a dry tone, causing you to chuckle a bit. Demon or not, you kind of liked her better than Castiel.

“And I did visit them all during my time with Yellow Eyes. But don't worry. I haven't exactly been giving them the Glengarry leads.” She continues, directing her attention to Castiel.

“You mean you’ve been lying to them?” She explains that she lied to them to try to figure out a way to go free, which Sam becomes upset by, since her plan ended up in the deaths of many innocent people. Through the conversation, you learn that the demon’s name is Meg and that, thankfully, Crowley was turning up nothing in his search for the Angel Tablet. 

“Wait a second. Did you just say ‘Angel Tablet’?” Sam asks. The three of you look at each other, confused. Castiel had said they were looking for a code to help read the Demon Tablet. Granted, you’re not exactly surprised that there is such thing as an Angel Tablet. It only makes sense that if there was one for demons that there would be one for angels.

“Well, this is news to me, as well.” Castiel says. But he doesn’t sound surprised, and you notice that he isn’t looking at anyone either as he says it. “Demons I interrogated must have been lying about their true intentions.” Looks like it wasn’t just demons that lied. 

“Really? ‘Cause I saw you ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ that demon. You were more than persuasive.” Dean says, not believing Castiel’s words. Good. You never thought, in your entire life, that you would trust a demon over a divine being, the incarnate of God’s grace and goodness, but here you were. Meg trumped Castiel in your eyes and you wonder why the boys would have trusted him in the first place. 

She tells them that the angel tablet being the object sought isn’t the big problem here. The bigger problem at the moment was the fact that she lied, which meant that even though the demons were off digging at the moment, they would eventually make their way back to the hotel. Sam and Castiel both tell her help is still needed in finding the crypts. She looks around the room at everyone before chuckling and sighing deeply.

“Any of your dummies got a map?” She asks.

“There’s the model of the town back at the Morton House.” Dean volunteers.

“Or we could just use this one.” You say, pulling out the map Wendy Rice had had from your jacket’s inside pocket. 

“I thought that other demon snagged it?” Dean asked, turning to you.

“Please? Like I was gonna let him get away with the loot. I just wish I could’ve stopped him from leaving too.” You smile at him, a little cocky grin teasing the side of your lips. He just stares at you, impressed. There’s a warm feeling that spreads through your chest and you feel very proud of that look in his eye, proud that you were the one who put it there.

“We shouldn’t stay here though. We’re gonna need to go somewhere else.” Meg says.

“Looks like a scene change? Maybe even a costume change if we’re done playing secret agents.” You say to the boys. Sam and Dean nod at you. You look to Meg. “And you’ve seen better days. A shower will make you feel like a whole new person.”

“I like her.” Meg says to the group. You weren’t sure if it was a particularly good thing for a demon to like you, but demon or not, you felt compelled to be helpful. Bobby raised you to be kind and courteous, even if he wasn’t, and you always had the desire to help those who looked like they needed it. And boy, did Meg look like she needed it. There was dried blood caked to her forehead and down her nose, you’re pretty sure that her nose is broken, and her wrists were chafed from the ropes. 

“If we’re going to leave this place, we may as well go to the Morton house. He should be out of the house and at his sister’s by now.” You suggest. Everyone nods and agrees. 

When you all went back to the Impala, Dean insisted you sit up front with him, while Sam rode in the middle between the demon and the angel. You stare back at him from the rearview mirror and catch his eye. He seems very uncomfortable and his eyes are pleading for help. You smile at him instead and giggle a little. 

When you all reach the Morton house, you offer to unlock the door. Before you even get the chance, Castiel disappears with a rustle of feathers, and appears again as the door to the house opens. He’s stands there just staring at everyone, before turning around and going in. 

“Showoff.” You say under your breath. Dean strokes his fingers through your hair before continuing on. You, Sam, and Dean change out of the suits and into your Hunter garb: jeans and the staple flannel shirt. You all make your way downstairs to the model and you pull out the map Wendy Rice had shown you. You rolled it out in front of the model to show Meg.

“There. That’s where the crypt should be.” She points to a cluster of miniature buildings.

“You sure?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. This map your friend has is pretty accurate. They match up.” Meg says, smacking her lips.

“It’s Y/N.” You say.

“Whatever. Is there any booze in this dump?” She walks away. Castiel follows behind her, saying he would make sure she didn’t leave. Sam takes a seat at the table, pulling his laptop out to check to see what is at the location. 

“He lied to us.” Dean says.

“Oh definitely.” You agree, moving and standing next to him. 

“Maybe, but I can kind of understand why. I mean, an Angel tablet?” He chuckles. “If the Demon tablet can shut the Gates of Hell, think about what the Angel Tablet could do?” 

“Didn’t you both say that Castiel and you went way back and that you were friends? Because that didn’t seem friendly. More like untrusting.” You say to Dean.

“Yeah. But something’s off. He hasn’t been like this since we first met.” Dean responds.

“Found it.” You and Dean move behind Sam to look at the laptop. There’s a bunch of buildings on Bond street, which Wendy had told you about when she was talking about the orchard, and North Harrison Street. 

“According to this map, the crypt has to be below an abandoned building.” Sam says.

“So we just gotta beat a couple of demons, get in and get out.” You say matter of factly. “Should be easy enough.” You joke around, not at all believing that it would end up easy.

“Either of you think we can trust Megstiel?

“No.” “Hell no.” You and Sam say at the same time. 

“But what choice do we have?” Sam says.

“Uh, we could sneak to the Impala and go without them?” You suggest.

“We won’t be able to get by Castiel.” Dean responds with finality. You shrug your shoulders.

“Eh, I tried.”

“Let’s get ‘em then.” Dean sighs, getting up. Before you get up the stairs, Dean pulls you back, allowing Sam to take a lead.

“Hey, three spells. You sure you’re good?”

“Woah, since when did you keep count?”

“Since you’ve passed out multiple times after using too many.”

“Dean, I’m fine. A little tired, but there’s been plenty of time in between for me to recover. I’m good.” You give him a peck on the cheek, before heading to the stairs. You walk upstairs and see Meg on the couch and Castiel on a chair, leaning in close to her. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it looks surprisingly intimate. Sam becomes visibly uncomfortable and you clear your throat. Castiel backs away quickly from Meg, his face turning crimson red. Already, there’s a strange contrast from how the angel was when you first met him and how he was acting at the moment. 

“We found it. Let’s go.” Dean barks and everyone squeezes back into the Impala, you at the front once more. Everyone is silent as the drive continues and the ride is very awkward. You can see in the rearview mirror that Meg is making side eyes at Castiel, and Castiel seems to be staring uncomfortably out of the window. Sam is squeezed in between them again, hands crossed in his lap and staring straight. You try to hide another smile and move a finger to the middle console and look over at Dean. He gives a small side smile at you and drops his hand down, your fingers twisting. You were definitely regretting the whole “no funny business on hunts” agreement you had both made. 

You reach the abandoned buildings in no time, with you and Dean being the only two happy and not at all bothered by the drive. You scan the area, walking to the front of the Impala, and allow your mind to open to feel any magic in the area. There was a blinding white energy coming from behind you, as well as a blackhole-like energy of darkness, which you assumed was the angel and the demon behind you. One felt like fire, and the other made you feel slimy and dirty. Up ahead, it feels like there’s some kind of wall that is stopping you from reaching out further. 

“You good there spacey?” A feminine voice calls out from behind, snapping you from your concentration. 

“I was just doing a witch thing, which you interrupted.” You snapped, irritated. You had to have full concentration for that and you didn’t particularly like being snapped out of it so quickly. 

“Woah, calm down there. Someone’s touchy.” She backed away, smiling wryly as she did so. 

“Anything?” Dean asked, coming up behind you.

“I got a good read on the celestial being and the personification of sin behind us.” You replied, sticking a thumb towards Castiel and Meg. “But up ahead, tch, it’s weird. It’s like there’s a barrier or something.”

“All right, Cas and I will head in and get our Indiana Jones on. Sam you stay outside with Meg.”

“What?” Sam asked upset.  
“And me?” You asked at the same time as Sam.

“Y/N, wait in the car, keep out of sight and stay safe.” Dean replied.

“Bullshit, I’m coming with you.” You tell him, stepping towards him and standing next to you. He opens his mouth to fight back, but you squint your eyes at him and place your hands defiantly on your hips, daring him to attempt to argue with you. He sighs resigned. 

“Fine. But you stay behind me and do what I say.” He says, his fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. You smile and shake your head, having absolutely no intention of playing it safe. He moves towards the building, and the rest of your little party continues forward as well. 

“If she’s going, I’m not staying out here. Meg can stay here and watch our backs and I’ll go in with you.” Sam says, moving up towards Dean. 

“What, you trust Meg to be by herself now?” Dean asks, surprised. 

“Hey, I got you this far.” She said, not really offended and more uncaring. 

“Shut up.”  
“Shut up, Meg. Dean-”

“Sam, someone needs to stay out here okay. And you haven’t been all there since the first trial. You let a demon get the better of you back at the house for crying out loud.” Dean stops, staring straight at Sam, punctuating his words. 

“I’m fine.” Sam says.

“No, you’re not fine. That’s why I called Cas.” Dean says. He wasn’t exactly wrong. While Sam seemed to be doing pretty well, you were pretty sure that if he were to stop taking the tonic you gave him, the effects of the spell would probably be a lot worse. Since the trial, he had been more lethargic. He’d been coughing a lot and seemed to have a perpetual cold. 

“Trial?” Meg asked inquisitively. This time, all three of you told her to shut up. 

“Dean, I’m telling you, I’m okay.” Sam said.

“No, you’re not. Sam...you’re damaged in ways even I can’t heal, held together by glue and paperclips so to speak. I don’t know how…” Castiel says sadly. You’re genuinely surprised by his words because it is such a contrast to the angel who killed the demon back at Wendy’s home. 

“Me.” You said suddenly. Dean, Castiel, and Meg looked straight at you.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t tell you because I figured it was up to Sam to tell you, but I knew that he wouldn’t be fine after a spell like that. I’ve been making him a healing tonic every morning.” You explain. Dean looks upset, his lips tightening and you can see his jaw click. 

“We’ll talk about that later.” He says to you. You shrink back a little, but not visibly. 

“Sam, you should stay here and protect Meg.” Castiel says, interrupting what may have turned into a lover’s quarrel. 

“Since when do I need protecting?” She says, offended. 

“Since you were held captive and tortured for over a year.” Castiel replies, staring deadpan at Meg.

“Touche.” She replies, shrugging her shoulders in reply. 

“All right, we’ll be back.” Dean says. Castiel walks away and Dean hands the demon-killing knife to Sam and then walks away.

“I’m sorry Sam.” You look at him, feeling upset for him. He purses his lips to say something, but drops it and just shakes his head, his hair falling into his face. You turn and walk away from him, jogging to catch up with Castiel and Dean. When you catch up inside the building, you overhear the tail-end of an explanation from Castiel.

“Subatomic level and his electromagnetic field--”

“Okay, bottom-line it for me, Bill Nye. Is it lethal?” Dean asks. You figure they’re talking about Sam and his condition. He has a flashlight out, searching the basement of the building. You grabbed an iron rod from your fanny pack and wrapped your hair around it multiple times and whispered the spell, _liathróidí solais_. The rod burst into light, almost brighter than Dean’s flashlight, and you had a small ball of light in your hand. Castiel turned back to look at it, his eyes going wide for a second. 

“Impressive.” His raspy voice said, before turning around and continuing to talk to Dean. “I don’t know Dean.”

There isn’t much to the scenery as you three walk down the corridor. There’s cement, more cement, and once in a while, some broken cement… You look against the walls, hoping to see something, anything, that indicated a touch of magic. 

“Wait.” Castiel’s voice says, and he stops. He places his hand against the cement wall and tells you all that he can feel a draft and to stand back. Dean grabs your arm and pulls you back and you nearly drop your little ball of light from the sudden motion. Your back hits his arm as he wraps his arms around you and places his hands protectively on your shoulders. 

WIth Castiel’s hand against the wall, there is a deep rumbling and a metallic taste fills your mouth. The wall seems to shake and you can hear an energy hum from around Castiel. The wall begins to crack under his hand and then the stone crumbles and shatters, pieces breaking off and falling to the floor, until a deep hole is left, exposing a hidden room. 

“Woah.” You say, staring at the hole in the wall as the dust settles and clears. 

“You okay?” Dean asks from your side.

“Huh, yeah. I’m fine.” You respond, a little caught off guard.

“Good.” He replies shortly, taking his hands off and walking into the room behind Castiel. He was still miffed about your withholding information about Sam, but at least he wasn’t so mad as to ignore you completely. That didn’t mean you weren’t any less hurt by his attitude though. You follow an enter into what seemed like a crypt with a high vaulted ceiling. The room was filled with centuries of dust that tickled your nose and threatened a sneeze. 

Castiel stayed by the hole in the wall while you and Dean shine your lights around the room. There is a little bit of light coming in from the moonlight, through cracks in the ceiling, but it isn’t much. There were several artifacts lying all around, some on a table, covered with dust and spider webs. You stop at the middle table, shining your ball over one of the artifacts that looks almost like a chest with a pyramid top. You were tempted to take the lid and take a peek inside, but you had seen enough movies to know that it may not be the smartest idea. 

“Dean. That’s it.” Castiel’s voice says, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to the task at hand. Castiel is pointing towards another chest-like artifact on a shelf against the wall by Dean. Dean shines his flashlight and you can see it is a carved, wooden chest. 

“How do you know?” Dean asks.

“It’s the only thing in here warded against angels.” Castiel explains. You and Dean walk over to the artifact. He puts his flashlight down on the table and looks to you.

“Can you give me some light?” He asks. You nod and place the ball above his head so that he can see more easily. Dean picks up the heavy chest and moves it to the table where you were looking at the pyramid topped chest. He looks over the chest and tests to see if it would open easily. It doesn’t.

“Try this.” You tell him, handing him the dagger that was strapped to your belt. 

“Thanks.” He grabs it and uses it to pry open the lid. He hands it back to you and you place it back into your blade sheath. Dean reaches into the chest and pulls out a large block of stone.

“Is that it?” You ask, looking at the stone. It didn’t look like the tablet Kevin had. 

“Looks like it.” Dean says, smiling.

“Good. Hand it to me, and I’ll take it to Heaven.” Castiel says, moving closer to you, his eyes not leaving the stone. You tense your body in reaction. Something was wrong. 

“No, we will take it to Kevin so he can translate.” Dean says, looking at Castiel, his hands holding the stone defensively. 

“Right. Of course.” Castiel says, but his voice is different, and so is his stance. “I’ll take it to him right away. No time to waste.” He hasn’t moved, but your heart is beating fast in your chest. Dean moves his mouth, but no words leave at first. You want to back away, but your worried that any sudden movements could set off the angel. 

“Well, he’s not that far. I’ve been meaning to… go check on him, bring him some supplies.” You try to catch Dean’s eyes, but his are trained on the angel. The ball of light in your hand started to fade as you prepped another spell in your other hand, pouring the magical energy into an energy ball just in case. 

“I can resupply the Prophet, Dean.” Castiel moves around to the other side of the table slowly, and Dean backs into you. He takes one arm and places it across you defensively, his other arm wrapped around the stone. 

“You know, why don’t uh, why don’t Sam, Y/N, and I take it over to him, and you can get back to your mission? Find the other half of the Demon Tablet--that is priority, isn’t it?” Dean keeps talking, trying to push you towards the entrance and using his body to shield you from the angel. You had faced off with several monsters, but never an angel. You had no idea how to fight them and you were so scared you could feel your heart pounding in your ears. 

“I can’t let you take that, Dean.” Castiel stops, facing Dean. Your breath catches in your throat and the ball of light flickers, throwing sinister shadows across Castiel’s face. 

“Can’t or won’t?” Dean asks. 

“Both.” Dean starts to move towards Castiel and you try to hook your arm around his to keep him by you, but he shakes it away. You’d have to grab him to get a good grip, but both hands were occupied with your spells. Adrenaline was fueling both, and you weren’t sure how long you could maintain them. Casting two spells at once was a dangerous thing and you hoped that a fight didn’t break out.

“How did you get out of Purgatory, Cas?” Dean asks, looking the angel dead in the eye. This was the first time you had ever heard Dean actually talk about Purgatory, but the angel didn’t respond. Dean tries to talk to him again, but he remains frozen. You have no idea what is going on in Castiel’s head, but you start to say a silent prayer, asking for Dean’s safety. Suddenly, Castiel’s head tips to the side and you see a long blade drop from his sleeve and into his hand. 

“Cas. Cas, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you’re in there and you can hear me, you don’t have to do this.” Castiel moves towards Dean, blade in hand.

“No!” You scream out, releasing the breath you had been holding and thrusting your hand out towards Castiel. The light blinks out of existence and a ball of crackling energy leaves your hand and hits the angel square in the face. He stumbles back and you feel the exhaustion take hold of you. You’d never cast a nonverbal spell before and it was far more draining than you could ever imagine. You felt your knees shake under you. 

“Y/n, get the fuck out of here!” Dean yells back as Castiel advances again, easily shaking off your spell. 

“I won’t leave you.” You gasp out, fighting to stay conscious. 

“Damnit Y/n!” He yells back and throws the stone up as Castiel brings his blade down on Dean again. Sparks light lightening crackle off the stone at the impact and thunder rumbles, shaking the crypt.

“Cas, fight this! This isn’t you!” Dean yells again. 

“Dean, duck! Flagro!” You yell, throwing your hands out again as soon as Dean ducks out of the way, but Castiel grabs the ball of fire with his hand and snuffs it out. His face changes from rage to confusion suddenly and his hands drop as he looks away from you and Dean.

“What have you done to me, Naomi?” He cries out in a mix of anger and fear.

“Who’s Naomi?!” Dean cries, hoping to wake him from whatever stupor he’s in. Dean approaches him cautiously.

“Dean, no…” You cry out, your voice weak, your knees buckling under you. He looks back at you, putting his hand back to tell you to hold, and Dean cautiously bends down next to the angel, who had dropped down to his knees. 

“Cas!” Dean cries out again, putting his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel looks up at him, his face still contorted. Castiel’s hand moves quickly, hitting Dean in the chest and throwing him back into the wall next to you. 

“Dean!” You cry out, and the adrenaline grips you again as you stand up and run towards Castiel, your blade out in your hand now. You scream in anger and cast a new spell, one you hadn’t used yet. 

“ _Ilektrikí_!” Electricity crackles down your arm and into the small dagger as you thrust it into the angel. The blade sinks into Castiel’s chest to the hilt and you can smell the sizzle from the electricity burning his flesh, but the angel doesn’t even flinch. The bravery that had spurred you into this attack is immediately replaced by pure, unadulterated fear, as you look to see the angel staring at you, emotionless. His hand grabs yours and tugs the blade out from his chest, and his hand squeezes tight, breaking your hand. You scream out in pain, unable to pull away or drop your dagger as he continues to squeeze. You feel every bone being crushed under his grip, hot pain bursting up your arm. 

“Y/n!” You hear Dean’s voice cry, right before you feel the searing pain of Castiel’s fist connecting with your cheek. You can feel several teeth dislodge and blood fill your mouth, before feeling more pain as you crash into several artifacts to the side of the wall. The impact knocks the wind out of you and you cough up blood and a few teeth. You’re pretty sure your jaw is dislocated. Tears are streaming down your face as you struggle to stay awake, your vision going dark. 

Your vision blurs from the tears and exhaustion. Dean calls out to you again and struggles to his feet, running towards you. But Castiel cuts him off. Dean tries to punch the angel, but Castiel grabs his arm and you can hear the bone snap as he cries out in pain. Dean drops the stone and it shatters, revealing a tablet within. Lightning flashes around you all, illuminating the crypt. You try to cry out for Dean, but no sound comes out of your throat as you spit out more blood. 

You hear multiple impacts as Castiel continues to beat Dean relentlessly. Tears and blood and snot mix on your face as your crying in fear and pain. You try to crawl towards him, using your one good hand to pull your forward, but it’s a slow progress and each push forward brings you closer and closer to blacking out. You refused to pass out, and you kept repeating it in your head over and over again, willing your body to move, willing it to not give up after being so spent.

“You want it? Take it! But you’re gonna have to kill me first.” _No!_ You try to scream out as you listen to Dean egg the angel on, and impacts continue to ricochet around the room. Your vision starts to blur as your see dark spots, the telltale sign that your consciousness was leaving you. You probably had one more spell in you, if you could just muster the energy. 

You can finally see Dean’s face, which is bloodied and bruised and cracked after being struck so many times. He’s pleading with Castiel, trying to get the angel to stop. He’s groaning and crying in pain as another strike hits him in the face. 

“Ffff-” You try to cast your fire spell, but opening your mouth hurts more than anything you’d ever felt and all that comes out is blood. Castiel’s blade is raised above Dean, light glinting off it menacingly. Your heart hurts and every part of you is crying out, asking for something to intervene, to stop this angel from taking one of the few things you had left in your life. 

“We’re family Cas. We need you. I need you.” Dean pleads. You stretch your hand out to Dean, trying to touch him, to comfort him, as if if you could just get to him, everything would be fine. You suddenly hear the clattering as Castiel’s blade falls to the floor. Castiel lets go of Dean and your boyfriend grunts in pain. 

The angel looks over at you and you stop breathing for a second, wondering if he plans to kill you first before Dean. But he ignores you, instead reaching for the tablet and picking it up. Light glows from the tablet and flows up Castiel’s arm and into his whole body. You shut your eyes against the painful light, but it’s like it sears past your eyelids. When it fades and you open your eyes, it takes a while before your vision can return. 

“Cas?” Dean asks tentatively, breathing heavily. Castiel reaches towards Dean and he starts to cry out in fear. You whimper and try to cry out, pleading for mercy, but unable to form the words. Dean reaches out to try and fend of Castiel’s approach, but is too weak as the angel bats it away and places a hand on the side of his face. _This is it_ , you think. _I wonder if I’ll see my parents again in Heaven?_

Dean gasps and suddenly the blood disappears from his face, along with the bruising. He looks down at his hands, his arm no longer broken. You stare at him in confusion, but he’s safe. And you start to let the darkness take you as relief washes over.

“Stay with me baby.” You hear Dean’s voice off in the distance, as if it were at the end of a long tunnel. “Cas, please!” 

Right when you’re about to embrace the darkness, a hand caresses your cheek and in less than a second, your vision focuses. Your hand and jaw no longer hurt. You run your tongue along the inside of your mouth, and all of your teeth are back. You can’t call upon your magic, but neither do you feel exhausted. 

“Dean?” You call out, scared and confused, looking around for his face. You feel his arms around you as he pulls you into his lap, and you see relief in his eyes as he grabs at your face to inspect you.

“You okay sweetheart? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Damnit you scared me. You were so brave baby. But damnit.” He pulls you in close, shoving your face into his chest, his arms squeezing tight around you, happy that you’re alive. Fresh tears fall down your face as the fear finally begins to dissipate. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“What the hell just happened?” He barks angrily at the angel. His arms loosen around you, allowing you to turn to look at the angel, but he doesn’t let go. Castiel begins to tell you both about how an angel named Naomi had freed him from Purgatory. But ever since he had been freed, Naomi had been controlling him and conditioning him to kill Dean and steal back the angel tablet. Everything he had done between Purgatory and now had all been orchestrated by Naomi. Damn, you were really starting to hate angels. Were they all dicks?

“Well, what broke the connection?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now.” Castiel responds. 

“From Naomi?” Dean asks.

“Yes, and from you.” He says, and before Dean can say anything more, both Castiel and the tablet disappear leaving nothing behind except for the sound of rustling feathers. 

“Cas? Damnit!” Dean yells out frustrated, slamming a fist into the floor next to him. He brings the same hand up, touching your cheek lightly. “You scared the living shit out of me you know that? What were you thinking trying to fight an angel?” He scolded lightly. 

“I was thinking I wanted to keep you safe.” You whisper. He chuckles lightly, and kisses you gently. You kiss him back, the fear of almost losing him finally fading as you wrap your hands into his hair. “Oh god Dean, I thought I was going to lose you.” You mumble into his mouth. He deepens the kiss as you both grab at each other, trying to prove to each other that you were both still alive, both still here. 

“Don’t you ever do that again. Never again.” He says into your mouth, his hands gripping under your shirt and clawing at your back, his nails digging in somewhat painfully. But you didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the earlier pain.

“Dean! Y/N!” You both break apart as you hear Sam’s voice call from outside the crypt. He bursts in, both of you still wrapped around each other. 

“Damnit guys, really!? Here?” Sam says, throwing his hands over his face and shutting his eyes. You both scramble to your feet, smiling sheepishly at the younger Winchester, you muttering an apology. 

“Where’s Cas?” He asks, tentatively opening his eyes, relieved when he sees that everything has returned to a PG rating. 

“He’s gone. Meg?”

“We got to go, now!” Sam says. Dean grabs your hand and pulls you along as you both follow Sam out. Dean rushes you along and you can see a newly beaten and bloody Meg, being lifted in the air by a man in a completely black suit. 

“Wait, Meg.” You cry out, pulling back at Dean’s hand. Dean looks back at the two figures.

“There’s nothing we can do for her. We need to go now.” He tells you, but you pull your hand away from his. 

“ _Flagro_!” You yell, mustering a fireball in your hand. You throw it and it hits the figure in the back. He turns around, smiling at you. He has a receding hairline and a goatee, and you were sure he was a demon working for Crowley. 

“Moose, squirrel, and now a bitch.” He says in an English accent. 

“ _Flagro!_ ” You yell again, throwing another fireball at him. He swipes it away, letting go of Meg and dropping her to the floor. “Meg, run!” You cry. She doesn’t think twice as she picks herself up and starts to limp away. 

“You let my chew toy get away.” He says dispassionately, looking over his shoulder at her fleeing. 

“Y/N, we need to go! Now!” Dean pulls you again towards the Impala, and practically throws you into Sam’s arms. After casting the spell twice, what little energy you had left leaves you, and you practically rag doll into Sammy’s grip. “Get her in the car!” Dean yells to Sam. Sam nods and pushes you into the backseat of the Impala, crawling in behind you. 

Dean is already turning the key in the ignition. You push yourself up weakley and look back to see the demon moving towards you all, moving quicker as the engine roars to life. The tires squeal against the wet pavement as the Impala drives away. You swear you can see a flash of blonde off in the distance, but you can’t be sure. All you know is you see the demon walk off towards where Meg had run, and you hope that she’s able to get away. 

“Are you stupid?!” Dean yells at you after a few minutes.

“Excuse me?” You slur out, feeling really weak again. 

“That was Crowley, King of Hell Crowley, powerful demon Crowley! And now he knows about you!” Dean yells at you, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You catch your own reflection, your eyes wide in fear and realization of your actions. 

“Well shit…” You manage. 

“Well shit indeed. Damnit it Y/N, this isn’t any normal Hunt anymore. We’re dealing with some big bads out here and you can’t just go throwing fireballs at everything.” He sighs deeply. 

“That was a little badass though, right?” You say meekly, struggling to stay away. He chuckles lightly, then curses, saying he’s still mad at you. You smile, closing your eyes. You planned on taking just a little nap. Yeah, just shut your eyes for a bit and recup. You lay your head against Sam’s shoulder, who doesn’t resist, and before long, you’re out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, every two weeks seems to be the new norm. I'm really sorry guys. Like I said, we're hitting testing season and it's getting very hectic. 
> 
> But I'm getting the work done so I can still have some consistent posts. I love this story and where it's going. And if anyone is wondering about whether Meg made it out or not, who knows? >:3


	19. Wicked Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter 19 happens immediately after the last one. It's a transition between episodes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bad bad writer. Sorry guys. I was very consistent in the beginning and life hit and so did a serious case of writer's block.  
> I'm uploading this chapter as an interlude, but I'm afraid it's still going to be a while before anything big is posted. I was in a really bad car accident and my entire right arm is screwed up. Still getting tests to see what's up, but typing and writing hurts a lot.  
> Please forgive me! I hope you enjoy the chapter though!

You feel the world dip underneath you as you’re scooped into someone’s arms. You wrap your arms around their neck, immediately recognizing Dean’s smell. Whiskey and cologne and musk. You breathe him in, remembering how close you had been to losing him just moments ago. Was it moments?

“How long have I been out?” You ask. 

“We’re back at the Bunker.” He tells you.

“Shit, that long?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles at you, kissing you on the forehead. He carries you into the Bunker and the act is very intimate for you, reminding you very much of the marriage tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold. Dean must have had the same thought because when you look up at him, his face is slightly pink. You smile and bury your head into his chest. 

“Sam?” You ask.

“He went in ahead.”

“Meg and Castiel?” 

“No word.” 

“Hmm.” You hum into his chest. “You?”

“Better with you around.” He smiles and your heart catches in your throat. He shifts you gently as he opens the door to your room, using his foot to close it shut behind him. He places you gently on the bed and you look up and smile at him. As you do, you look around to see weapons displayed on the shelves, an old typewriter, and an old stereo. This wasn’t your room…

“What are you playing at Winchester?” You smile up at him, teasingly. 

“I almost lost you tonight. I ain’t letting you go that easily.” He says, crawling over you, staring you deep in the eyes. 

“We Singers are a tough bunch. It isn’t gonna be easy to take me down.” You reassure him.

“Good. Now, I think we were interrupted earlier.” He croons, his voice getting deeper. 

“Were we? Remind me, what we were doing again?” He smiles at you.

“Come here you little-” You don’t know what he had planned on calling you, because you had lifted yourself up on your shoulders, capturing his lips with yours. With a deep chuckle, he kisses back. His hands rub down along your back, calluses rubbing against smooth skin. You shudder under his touch and he moves his mouth away from yours to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, your chin, and suckles on your neck. You gasp softly, remembering that only hours before, that jaw had been broken.

“Hey, with me. Nowhere else but here with me.” He says, looking you in the eyes, his gaze soft and comforting. 

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine.” You reply, shaking the memory away. You wanted to talk about it, but not yet. For now, you just wanted to enjoy the taste and feel of Dean Winchester. He goes back to your neck, kissing it gently, and you knead your fingers into his hair. He moves back up to meet your lips, as his fingers work to unbutton your shirt. You follow the leader and abandon the feel of his hair to do the same. You try to move quickly and before long, you’re both in an unspoken race to see who can release whom first.

“Hah!” Dean laughs as he pulls your shirt off first, stopping you from finishing the last button. 

“You had a head start!” You pout, pushing him over and onto his back. 

“Well look at that.” He says teasingly, poking at your lower lip that is jutting out in irritation. You were both very competitive. “Someone’s a sore loser.” 

“I’ll show you sore loser.” You bark and then attack his neck, nipping gently. He gasps and chuckles as your hands move down towards his jeans. You cup him, massaging between his legs, and feel him start to grow against denim. He grunts in response, lifting his hands to hold your back. 

“I’m not convinced just yet. I think you gotta keep going.” He gasps out. You smile wickedly at him. 

“You’re going to regret those words Winchester.” You say, showing your pearly whites to him in a dazzling smile before dipping down to free him from his jeans. You make a show of slowly removing his belt and he groans in anticipation. When you had loosened his button and zipper, you continue to drag his jeans off as slowly as you did his belt. Taking his boxer briefs with the jeans, you watch as he springs to attention for you, having grown to full length. 

“May I?” You ask, in feigned innocence.

“Oh please do.” He responds, before laying back down against his pillow. 

You move back up his legs, grabbing him tightly and pump slowly up and down. You watch as Dean’s hands grab his own face as he groans in pleasure. Excitement takes you and you want to hear more. You’d gotten used to him pleasing you first, him taking you, him being in charge. There was an elation to having Dean Winchester on his back for once. 

You lick the tip, testing the reaction, and are satisfied when a deep groan escapes his lips. Smiling, you take him in slowly, starting with just the top, licking and sucking deep, pumping the base with your hand. Every groan pushes you further, but this was supposed to be slow, you kept reminding yourself, as you continued to tease. Soon, you take him in completely, feeling him at the back of your throat. 

“Breathe.” He reminds you, gasping in pleasure. You’re glad he does, because you hadn’t realized you’d stopped and this wasn’t an easy feat, with his length. Breathing made it easier as you continued to suck and lick. Using both mouth and hand, you continue to pump, working him slowly and heavily, squeezing with your hand every so often, applying pressure to his more sensitive spots. 

“Stop, stop!” He suddenly gasps and you immediately comply, concerned and looking in his large, bewildered eyes. 

“Something wrong?” You ask, concerned. Were you doing it wrong?

“God no, you’re perfect.” He tells you, sitting up and looking at you. You straddle him and he holds you close. “No, it’s not that. It’s more that you’ve proven your point. And I was dangerously close to finishing right there.” He chuckled.

“I see nothing wrong there.” You tell him, grinding your hips into his lap, causing him to groan. 

“Oh you really are a wicked witch!” He flips you back over onto your back and you gasp at the speed. “You tell me when to stop, okay? Because now, it’s my turn.” You nod at him in gleeful anticipation. He frees you from your tank top and bra, and in one fluid motion, pulls your jeans and underwear off. You’re freed from your clothes in a manner of seconds. His mouth goes to work all over your body, his hands massaging your breast as his lips lap at your stomach.

“Damnit Dean.” You gasp as his mouth works its way down your thighs before settling between your legs. His tongue flicks out, catching your sensitive tip, and licking against you. You cry out softly, smacking your hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. Dean looks up at you and pulls your hand away.

“Sam can deal with it. I want to hear you.” He says, his voice deep and enticing. You shiver under his gaze, and while you’re embarrassed to know that Sam could hear you, there’s a part of you that is completely turned on by Dean’s words. He shoots you a smile before returning to his work, now adding his fingers into the mix. 

You might have been a witch, but Dean had his own kind of magic. He kept sending you to the peak, and then stopping just before the crescendo could hit, his own form of payback. Delicious revenge. His fingers and tongue found your spot every time and you were crying out each time he hit it. 

“Dean, please!” You finally cried after the fourth tease. And without a reply, he worked you over the edge, as a wave of pleasure finally overtook you, your entire body shaking in it, more intense than any other time you had both made love. You pant with exhaustion, staring up at him, him smiling triumphantly at you. You chuckle at him and then squirm as his fingers grab your hips. He begins to pull you to the edge of the bed, but every part of you is sensitive, and every touch, every move, sends new pleasure coursing through your body. 

“You have that potion of yours made right?” He asked, standing at the side of the bed, wrapping your legs around his torso. 

“Yeah, the contraceptive one? Yeah.” You tell him breathlessly as you hook your feet together. He nods at you, lining himself up with your entrance, before slowly sinking in. His fingers had already worked you open, and you took him in deeply. You both groaned in pleasure as he sunk in all the way. Then he pulled out, slowly once more, before slamming it hard. It rocked you to the core and you cried out, still sensitive from your recent orgasm. He started a relentless pace, hard and fast, and delicious. You didn’t dare tell him to stop, and you almost screamed for him to go harder, faster, as you felt yourself building again. He pressed his thumb over your nub, rubbing in circles, pushing you over the edge as you thrust your hips up to meet him. 

You cry out as a second orgasm rushes over you, and you hear him cry out not long after. He spills into you and you feel full and sated. You both pant as he leans over you, his hands on either side of your head. After a few seconds, you feel him pull out and you whimper softly, missing the feeling of him. He walks over to his dresser and pulls a few clothes out, and you see that one of them is a towel. He hands it to you, before laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms, spooning you and pressing his face into your neck, his breath tickling. You both stay there for a bit, relishing in the silence, and the love, and the after-sex glow. His breathing starts to slow and you realize he’s starting to fall asleep. 

“Hey Dean.”

“Hmm?”

“You asleep already?”

“Mhmm.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“About Sam. I’m sorry for not telling you about Sam. I figured it was his secret to share, and not mine.” You whisper softly. You feel him move. You didn’t want to have this conversation, but you knew that there was a little part of him that didn’t forget and hadn’t yet forgiven you. He sits up and moves to the edge of the bed. You follow suit, sitting on the towel to avoid making a mess of his sheets. You take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him. It’s dark in the room, but your eyes had adjusted. There were a few scars on his body, and the muscles bulged as he adjusted his position. Your eyes fell on the newest scar, from the Hellhound just a month earlier. You hadn’t thought you could be in a scarier situation, until tonight. 

“I understand.” He said.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I don’t like it, but I get it. You and Sam had always been close. I don’t particularly like it, but you’d always been protective of him. And I appreciate it, so I get it. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Cas said that whatever is wrong with Sam is down to his cells, but you, your potion is keeping him together so far. He’d be a lot worse if it weren’t for you. You’re saving his life and I can’t thank you enough.” He says, not meeting your eyes.

“Hey, it’ll be okay Dean.” You reach out to grab him, bring his head into your chest, stroking his hair soothingly. 

“I can’t lose him Y/N.”

“I know. You won’t. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

“He’s the only family I’ve got left.” 

“I know sweetheart. I know.” You croon. He looks up at you again, his face sad, but no tears, before kissing you again. 

“And I almost lost you too tonight. I am so sorry Y/N. I should never have put you in that situation.” He puts his forehead against yours. “Forgive me?”

“Forgive you? For what? You didn’t know your angel was going to go Little Nikita on you.”

“Doesn’t matter. I should have-”

“Should have nothing Winchester. I chose to be by your side, I chose to get back in the game. One of these days you’re gonna have to learn that it’s not Dean versus the world or Dean, the solo Hunter. I’m okay.”

“Are you?” His eyes are on you, probing. Truth was, you weren’t okay. You were shaken, still scared from the experience. Sure, Sherry almost killed you, vampires had almost killed you, ghosts had almost killed you, okay, a lot of things have almost killed you. But this was different. This was crushing before killing. You had never felt what it was like to have every bone in your hand turn into splinters and powder. You had never felt your jaw get broken before. And although it was healed now, you could remember the feeling. 

“How did he do that?” You ask the question that had been on your mind for a while. 

“Angel grace. He can heal almost any wound, just by touching you.”

“That’s nice. So if he beats the living shit out of you, he just has to poke you, fix it, and say, ‘my bad guys.’ No offense Dean, your angel’s a dick.” He laughs in response. 

“Most angels are. But Cas wasn’t like that before Purgatory. He’s family. He’ll shake this off.”

“If you say so, but I’m not won over. Asshole has gotta pay for almost destroying this handsome mug over yours.” You tell him, squishing his face between your hands and planting another kiss on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry. He’s still in hot water after what he did to you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you Y/N. I...I really care about you.”

“I love you too Winchester.” You both are quiet for a bit, when you ask, “Was that really Crowley that I threw a fireball at?”

“Oh yeah it was.”

“He’s gonna try and kill me if we ever come across him again.”

“Yeah, but he has to go through me first.”

“Anything you know that can kill him?”

“Demon blade and probably an angel blade. It’s definitely hurt him before.”

“Cool… cool... Well, I’m dead tired. I’ve used a shit ton of magic today, both in and out of this bed, so I’m going to steal a shirt and then you and I are going to count some sheep.” You smile at him, grabbing one of his t-shirts from the dresser drawer. You relish in the way he admires you as you walk to get dressed. You throw a pair of boxers to him as you pull his shirt on. 

“You know, you were down right sexy naked. But in my shirt, I think you just made my heart stop.” He tells you. You crawl back into his lap. 

“Compliments like that is going to get you a round two mister.”

“Well then, I think I’ll just keep going then.” He captures your mouth in a kiss and any thoughts of sleep vanish from your mind as you both tumble onto the mattress together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Nikita was a movie about russian sleeper agents in america btw. Pretty good movie.


	20. Father of the Witch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack!
> 
> Finally got an update in. I'm working on the next chapter now and it's summer vacation so hopefully I'll be able to finish this off and give you all a nice resolution! Enjoy lovelies.

“Come on.” Dean says, parking the Impala in the shipyard. 

“And you’re sure Kevin didn’t say anything else?” You ask, getting out of the car and pulling your blade out. 

“No, all he sent was a text message that said S.O.S.” He said, irritated. Dean had gotten the message in the middle of the night and woken you and Sam up. You’d all dressed and piled into the Impala, no breaks, no food, just driving as fast as possible to make it to Kevin in time. Dean slaps his fist against the boathouse door. 

“Kevin, open up!” Kevin opens up the door, holding a large frying pan in his hand. He looks even more tired and unkempt than the last time you had seen him. There was a perpetual sweating to him and a jitteriness to his movements. 

“Whoa! What’s going on? What’s with the S.O.S.?” Dean asks. Kevin moves aside and you all enter into the house.

“It’s him.” Kevin says, and you can tell he is definitely wigging out. 

“It’s who?” Sam asks. 

“Crowley.” Kevin replies. The three of your turn around to look at Dean, and you feel a familiar fear rush over you. You hadn’t actually confronted Crowley before, but you had been stupid enough to try and attack him once and you weren’t sure you were ready to see him again so soon. 

“What about him?” Dean asks, looking over at you. 

“He’s in my head.” Kevin says. You look at him curiously and are relieved to see that both Winchesters are also skeptical. 

“He’s...in your head.” Sam asks, probing for more information. 

“Do you know what that means?” He yells out, terrified.

“Yeah, it means we need to up your anxiety meds.”

“Dean!” You scold him.

“What? It’s true! Listen, Kevin, if Crowley knew where you were, he’d do a hell of a lot more than mess with your head.”

“And you’re sure about that Dean? Because torture, of any kind, is a demon’s M.O.” You say, playing devil’s advocate for Kevin. 

“Trust me, Y/n. I know Crowley.”

“All right, where’s Garth?” Sam asks. 

“On a case or...or the dentist. I don’t know.” Kevin replies, unfocused. He’s completely distracted by the thought that the King of Hell could be reading his thoughts. Dean asks him, impatiently, what Kevin had that he couldn’t say on the phone. Kevin puts the frying pan on the stove and walks over to his table to grab his notepad. While the boys talk, you start to look through Kevin’s fridge, to make sure he was eating alright. You’re not surprised to see that he’s back to frozen foods and hot dogs again. 

“What's the second trial?” Sam asks. You look back to the immediate conversation, making a mental note to get Kevin some better food. 

“An innocent soul has to be rescued from Hell and delivered unto Heaven.” Kevin replies. All three of you look at him like he just spoke gibberish. How in the hell does one go to Hell?!

“Rescue a soul from Hell? Like actually go to Hell? How-How do you get a soul unto Heaven? I mean, how do you even get a soul out of Hell?” Sam looks over to you, questioning. 

“Don’t look at me. I’ve never heard of that before. From what you’ve all told me, you and Dean are the only two I know who’ve been to Hell and back.” You tell them, raising your hands up defensively. 

“We’re gonna need an expert.” Dean says.

“Stupid, idiotic, pig-headed, son of a- agh!” You scream, pacing back and forth. Sam and Dean had been discussing summoning a crossroads demon when you had decided to take advantage of using the restroom. The three of you had driven all the way to Kevin from Lebanon without a single break and you had been ready to burst. When you had gotten out, Dean and Sam were gone. Kevin had told you that they had gone and thought it would be safer to have left you at the boat to guard Kevin from Crowley. But you knew the truth. Dean was still worried about you from the previous month when Castiel had almost killed you. 

You had almost trashed the entire boat in your anger, but the look on Kevin’s face had stopped you. You had tried to call Dean and Sam, but both times it had gone straight to voicemail. The only indication that they were safe was a text you had received from Sam saying that they were both fine and that Dean would pay for his actions later. 

“Oh you’re gonna do more than pay Winchester!” You scream again in the boat’s living room. Kevin was nowhere to be seen. He had cleared out a while ago, deciding to hide in the closet. He said it would the safest place for him. Kevin said safest from Crowley, but there was a little voice in your head that told you that he was also hiding from you too. 

You’re pretty miffed at the whole situation, but you take the opportunity to study that spellbook you had. Over the past month, you had gotten distracted with cases and with Dean, that you hadn’t fully finished translating the book. It was a couple hours later, and you had finally finished extracting two spells, one to seal cuts and one to stop infections, when the door to the boathouse finally opened. 

“Yo, Kev, Y/N, it’s me!” Dean steps in with a bunch of take out food. When he sees you, he smiles sheepishly, but you don’t respond in kind. You’re standing, one hand on your hip and the other raised up aggressively. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t set your pants on fire?”

“Because we shouldn’t engage in foreplay with the kid around?” He said, chuckling nervously. 

“I should flay you alive Dean. How dare you leave me behind like some kind of benched rookie and then refuse to answer your phone?!” 

“I understand that you’re pissed, but I figured, better to ask for forgiveness?”

“I swear Dean Winchester, I am going to-”

“So where’s Kevin?” He interrupts you, putting the food down on the stove top of the kitchenette. You’re about to start telling him off again when the closet door from the back as Kevin leaves the room. 

“I believe the closet would be safest.” He explains. 

“Safe from what?” Dean asks.

“He’s still on about Crowley being in his head. Kevin figured that if he was in the closet, it would make it harder for Crowley to spy on him.” You explain, walking over to the food. You grab one of the burgers and some fries, sitting back down at the table next to your spellbook and notes. 

“You know, I was thinking about it and we should move out. We’ll find another place.” Kevin says, still in the door of the closet.

“Geez, Kev, would you hill out, huh? Come on. Don’t lose it on me now, dude.” Dean says. You scold him for being so harsh and then call to Kevin.

“Kevin, Dean and I are here to protect you. Crowley won’t get you if you sit down and eat.” You say, taking the honey approach to Dean’s vinegar. 

“There you go. That’s it.” Dean says, handing Kevin a burger.

“Just tell me when this all ends, ‘cause that’s the only thing I want to hear.” Kevin moans miserably. Dean sits down next to him and you keep your eyes down, concentrating on your burger and your spell book. 

“No, like I told you before, this isn't going to end. Look, man, other guys, they got it easy, you know? It's all backyard barbecues and... bowling teams, but you and me? We got to carry a little extra weight.”

“I can’t take it.” Kevin responds, shaking his head to try and rid himself of Dean’s words. You had to admit, they were harsh, but he wasn’t wrong. Being a Hunter, being involved in the supernatural, it was never easy. You may not have been through anything like Sam and Dean, but you had faced your own hardships being born into a Hunting family. 

“Yes, you can. Hey, look at me. Now, this whole thing sucks. I know. But you suck it up and you push through because that's what we do. And when you get on board with that, the ride is a lot smoother.” Dean paused, before looking down at his food and then back at Kevin. “French fry?”

“I’m gonna...I’m gonna be in my room. Let me know when there’s a good day.” Kevin grabs the tray of take out food and goes back into the closet and shutting the door. 

“That’s my pie.” Dean says, looking at you despondently. 

“Did you have to say it like that?”

“Like what?” 

“Like there were no good days. Like everything about this life sucks.”

“Doesn’t it?” Dean shrugs his shoulders at you. You smack the table and he looks up suddenly to see you standing from your chair.

“No it doesn’t. Because then that would mean all those moments where you and I spent together, or when the three of us were laughing and eating together would mean nothing. Don’t tell me that means nothing to you Dean.” Your voice softens on that last sentence and you sit back down. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I...damn, I…” He’s trying to find the words to apologize.

“It’s fine.” You sigh, sitting down and taking another bite of your burger. “Where’s Sam?” You finally ask. 

“Doing the second trial. He’s in Hell rescuing Bobby’s soul.” Dean freezes suddenly and you put the food down, looking straight at him.

“Bobby who?”

“Y/N.”

“Bobby who Dean?”

“Uhhhhh.”

“Why is my dad in Hell? When were you planning on telling me?” You start yelling again. 

“To be honest, I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“And why the hell wouldn’t you?”

“Because I knew it would upset you!”

“Damn right it upsets me. My boyfriend is keeping secrets from me!”

“It’s going to be fine. Sam is zipping down to Hell with a Reaper and he’s probably getting Bobby out right now as we speak!” Dean’s face is red and there’s something in his eye that tells you he’s still hiding something. 

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What?” 

“You’re poker face with me is shit Dean Winchester. What else did you lie about?” Dean stops moving for a bit, taking time to think about what he was going to say next. He finally lets out a deep sigh.

“We burnt his flask, so he definitely moved on. We didn’t know he would end up in Hell Y/N, I swear.”

“What do you mean, you burnt his flask?”

“We gave him a Hunter’s funeral. But you know that that doesn’t always mean they don’t come back.”  
“My dad was a ghost?” Dean nods in response. “How long?”

Dean doesn’t answer you. He just stands up and walks a distance away from you. The fury is building in you. Pure anger. You had kept a lot from the boys, you’ll admit that. You probably should have told them that you were a witch, but this was different. They had kept a secret about your dad, your family. You would never have done something like that. If you knew something about John or Mary, you would’ve told them immediately.

“How long?!”

“A few months okay!”

“You knew where I was! You and Sam had my address from the funeral. Why Dean?”

“Because… because you were out.”

“I could have spoken to my dad. We could’ve hashed things out!” Tears were threatening to spill over. Dean was about to say something but you put your hand up, cutting him off. You stood up from your chair and made your way to the door. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, worried and upset.

“I need to take a walk.”

“I’ll go-”

“Alone Dean. I need to be alone. Watch over Kevin.” And with those words, you walked out, leaving Dean Winchester in Garth’s boat. You walked along the pier, and then onto the sidewalk. You weren’t really sure where you were going, you just knew you had to move. You were pissed, beyond pissed. Dean had told you at the funeral that Bobby had left a message for you, that he had forgiven you. But you could have talked to him, you could have said your goodbyes, if one of those idiot brothers had just called you… 

“Bobby...Dad... I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know you were in Hell. Daddy I’m sorry!” You suddenly scream, dropping to your knees and pounding your fists against the pavement. A year in Hell. A whole year. Dean had told you that a day in Hell, an hour even, felt like eternity. You were angry at your dad, but never once had you wished something as bad as Hell’s eternal torture. And like every other Hunter, you couldn’t help but feel like you were somehow responsible. 

You lean back against a wall that lines the sidewalk, crying angrily. You should be there with Sam right now. You should be in Hell, saving your dad, and helping Sam with the Trials. It wasn’t right, them taking that decision away from you. They kept doing that, those boys. They kept taking away your ability to make a choice and deciding what was best for you, and you weren’t going to keep having it. You were in this as much as they were and if they were going to keep putting themselves in danger, you were going to start making decisions just as dumb as they did. 

“You okay?” A timid voice says, shocking you and causing you to jump. You look up to see Kevin’s hollow face and sunken eyes.

“Flipping shit Kevin. What the hell man?”

“Sorry. What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!”

“Hiding the tablet.”

“What?”

“I figured that if I could hide the tablet, that would keep Crowley from finding it right?”

“And Dean just let you leave?”

“No, I snuck out while you were both arguing.” You chuckled at him. 

“Jeez, you’re such a kid, even though you’ve been through so much. Kevin, you can’t just sneak out like that man. There’s a price on your head. You could have been killed.”

“I had to do this though.”

“Dean is going to be pissed, you know that right?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs his shoulders and sat down next to you. “What were you both arguing about?”

“What we always argue about, keeping secrets.” You laugh bitterly. “That’s all the Winchesters and Singers seem to do. Heck, that’s what Hunters do. We’re untrusting by nature and so we keep secrets, even from those closest to us, even if we don’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry?” Kevin says, unsure of how to respond to you. 

“Heh, no need Kevin. How’re you holding up? I know it can’t be easy, what with the boys barking orders at you, demons coming after you, and having all this responsibility thrust on you.”

“I’m falling apart at the seams.”

“I figured. Listen, I know what Dean said. It’s not always like this. There are good moments too, in between. Fun moments that you share with people you care about. You gotta cling to those moments. They make everything worth it.”

“I miss my mom…”

“Tell me a good moment with your mom then. During this time of your life.” Kevin takes a moment to think, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. 

“Dean and Sam took mom and I to get anti-possession tattoos. It hurt like a bitch, but she took it like a champ. I was shocked. Mom was a tiger mom, no doubt, but I’d never seen her look so cool before. She was fearless against demons. It was insane.”

“My dad and I used to go on Hunting trips together. There was this one time, when I was fourteen or fifteen, where he took me to this little town near ours on a suspected werewolf case. He didn’t go out on cases often, normally he set other Hunters to them, but it was close and the werewolf attacks seemed clumsy, so he figured it would be good training for me.”

“Did it go wrong?”

“No, it went great. I was a natural. It was after the messiness was over that things were that moment of peace. We stopped by a lake on the way back home and we just sat there for a couple hours, fishing. We didn’t catch jack shit, but Dad looked peaceful for once, and peaceful sober. That was a damn rare sight.”

“You miss him?”

“More so recently. Before Dean and Sam came back into my life, rarely. But lately, I can’t stop thinking about him. Would he be proud of me? Would he do things differently? All that.”

“Yeah…” You both just sit there for a while, thinking, sulking, looking at the clouds above you. You look over at the kid, feeling sorry for him suddenly. He never asked to be a prophet. You chose this life. You chose to come back into it and you chose to be a witch. But Kevin, dude was pulled into it. 

“Hey, we should head back, yeah? Before Dean realizes you went missing and pops a blood vessel.”

“Okay.” You both walk back to the boat. You hadn’t realized how far you’d walked until you started heading back. You both must have been gone for a couple hours now. You wonder if Dean even noticed…  
“Where the hell have you two been? Kevin, what happened to being scared?” Dean asked from the stove. You could smell eggs and bacon. Someone was trying to apologize. Kevin explains to Dean where he had been and about hiding the tablet. You ignore both of them and make your way to your book and notes again, consolidating everything into a neat pile. 

“...I swear to you-” You suddenly notice Dean getting louder. 

“You’ll what, Dean?” Kevin asks derisively. He goes back into his closet, his new bedroom, slamming shut the door. 

“Kevin!” Dean yells after him again. 

“Kids.”  
“Kids.”

You jump as another female voice says the same thing as you at the same time. You turn around to see a white woman in a gray suit and white shirt. Her hair was tied back. She seemed casual, but you had a feeling you knew what she was. 

“Shit!” You move back from the table, towards Dean. 

“So cute when they’re little. Then they turn into teenagers and the party’s over.” She sighed. “We haven’t been formally introduced. My name is Naomi.” She moves towards you, hand outstretched to shake his, but Dean backs away, bringing you with him. He starts to hide you behind his back. Normally, you would fight back, but the memory of Castiel crushing your hand and shrugging off your attacks like they were mosquito bites were still vivid in your mind. 

“Oh, I know who you are. And I know what you did to Cas after he got out of Purgatory.”

“After I rescued him from Purgatory, you mean, at the cost of many angels’ lives.”

“You screwed with his head and had him spy on us. He tried to kill us! He almost killed her!” He barked angrily. Where did Dean find the courage to yell at an angel? Naomi had tried to spin the whole brainwashing thing in her favor, but neither you or Dean were biting. As far as you were concerned, Naomi was as vicious and dangerous as any other monster you had all come across. 

“Save it. See, we don’t trust Angels, which means we don’t trust you.” Dean’s courage was infectious. You stood next to him, hands on your hips, staring her done as aggressively as you would any other monster. 

“And yet you haven't warded this place against us. I know. You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way. I know you don't want to believe it, Dean, but we're on the same side – shutting the Gates of Hell, bringing Castiel in from the cold. Take a moment. Think about what I've said. Oh. I know you've been doing business with Ajay. He did mention, didn't he, that his way into Hell is through Purgatory? I knew you'd want to know. You see, we can be of help to each other.” Dean’s eyes go wide in worry, but neither of you could ask Naomi for anything further because with a ruffle of feathers, she disappeared. 

“Shit. Damn. Fuck.” Dean paced back and forth, cursing, trying to think about what to do next. “I gotta go get Ajay. I’ve gotta get Sam out of there.”

“We are going to get Sam out of there.”

“No way. Someone has to watch crazy over there.” 

“Dean Winchester, you really want to try benching me again? Kevin is fine. As long as he stays in the boat with the wardings, he’ll be fine.” Dean stops to think, his hand running against his neck.

“There’s no talking you out of this.”

“No, and any arguing we get into is just going to be wasting time.” You tell him, sticking to your guns. He growled in frustration before finally agreeing. 

“Kevin, stay put, be safe, call us. We’re going to go get Sam out of Purgatory!” You yell at the closet door. You hear a faint okay from inside and you and Dean rush out of the boathouse and towards the Impala to find Ajay, the Reaper. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

A half hour later, you were leaning against the Impala as Dean called a friend of his on his phone. You could make out a little bit of what he was saying, but Dean was muttering and walking around nervously. And he had every right to be. When you had both pulled up to Ajay’s taxi, he’d had a stab wound in his chest. You weren’t sure who killed him, although Dean had a nagging suspicion that it had been Crowley. Now Dean was trying to phone a friend to get Sam and Bobby out of Purgatory, but he didn’t tell you who that friend was. 

You watch suspiciously as he looks over to you and then keeps walking, ducking into an alleyway. You crane your head and watch him. He doesn’t get too far into the alley and you get off of the Impala, making your way towards him. You pass a drunk couple, who bump into you, as you’re focused entirely on Dean. You make out Dean’s words.

“Benny, I got a favor to ask you. It’s a big one.” You had never heard of Dean ever mention anyone named Benny before. You stayed leaning against the alleyway, since Dean hadn’t noticed your approach and just kept listening to the conversation. Dean gave Benny some information on where you both were and asked him to make it to them as soon as possible. He told Benny he needed someone to get into Purgatory. After a few minutes, Dean hung up the phone and turned around to see you leaning against the wall, hands crossed around your chest. 

“Who’s Benny and why didn’t you want me to hear?” You ask him when he approaches you. 

“Sorry…” He starts, and then looks towards the Impala.

“We promised not to keep secrets anymore Dean Winchester.” He pauses for a bit, before sighing deeply. 

“Benny’s a vampire I met in Purgatory. He’s my friend.”

“You have a friend. Who’s a vampire?”

“Yeah.”

“And you gave me shit for being a witch?” 

“Are we still on that?”

“Hell yeah we’re still on that! You had pointed a gun at me!”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“You are such a hypocrite Dean!” You throw your hands up into the air, aggravated with him, stalking away back to the Impala. You go into the backseat and lay down. From the phone call, it seemed you would be waiting for the vampire Benny to show up in a few hours, so you were planning on taking a nap while you waited. 

You know you shouldn’t have snapped so quickly with Dean. His attitude towards witches had changed significantly over the past few months, but something about Dean having trusted a vampire more easily than a witch bothered you. Especially with how unfriendly he had treated you when he first realized you were a witch. 

There’s a tap on the window. You open your eyes and see Dean rapping his knuckles on the window. His face is twisted in concern; it’s obvious he’s upset by your words. You close your eyes and adjust your body to get more comfortable, ignoring him. You hear the car door open as he climbs into the backseat with you. 

“There’s not a lot of room back here. You can sleep in the front.”

“I am so sorry.” He says, hugging you close to him.

“Dean…” You’re still frustrated, but you can’t help but smile at his sincerity. 

“I understand how it looks, but I swear, I don’t trust Benny more than you. I swear it. It’s just…”

“You’re worried about Sammy.” You finish his sentence for him. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. I don’t know what you went through in Purgatory. I can’t judge you for who you look to for help.” You both move around so that you’re facing each other. He leans down and kisses you. You kiss him back, melting into him. Tensions had been high between the both of you for the past few hours, but as he deepens the kiss, you begin to forget why you were mad at him. 

One hand grips at your back, the other twisting in your hair as his tongue slips in between your lips. The taste of him is intoxicating and the smell of him is all around. There is such desperation in his kiss and a hunger that causes heat to pool in your stomach. You move your face away from him, gasping for air. 

“Dean, we’re technically on a mission.” You breathe heavily. 

“Uh huh.” He breathes back as he begins to attack your neck. 

“We’re in public.”

“In an isolated alley.” He nibbles, causing you to gasp in pleasure. 

“Your friend is on his way.”

“He’s a few hours away. We have time.” His mouth moves down to your clavicle, lapping above your breast. You were running out of excuses as your mind went fuzzy. 

“We should probably get some sleep though…” You don’t sound very convincing. Dean looks over at you with intensity in his eyes. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop. Tell me to stop, I will.” He says, his voice husky and deep. Any other moment you would have told him to focus on the task at hand, get some sleep to rest for the next part of the Hunt, but you could see his motivations. The need to feel close to you, the need to prove he cared, the need for a distraction from his brother and your father being in danger. You smile softly at him.

“You have a condom in here?” He smiles, still a little sadness in his eyes, and nods at you, moving to the glove compartment in the front seat before returning to his ministrations of you. 

The sunlight wakes you up as morning approaches. You and Dean had gotten a few hours of sleep and while you didn’t feel perfect, you felt refreshed enough to start the day. You sit up, looking over to Dean, who had rolled off the seats and was sleeping on the floor of the Impala. You felt stiff, but you were sure that Dean was going to be worse for wear. You had told him to move to the front seat so that he could stretch out, but he had refused to leave your side. You shook your head at him. 

“Dean. Dean. Hey Dean, wake up asshat.” You shake him lightly.

“Holy shit. This is what it feels like to be old. I guarantee it.” He says, trying to sit up. 

“I warned you. Get up, your friend will be here soon, yeah?” Dean groans again and checks his phone. 

“Shit, Benny called. He must be nearby.” You leave the Impala, so that Dean would also be able to get out. He stretches when he’s out, adjusting his coat. Off in the distance, there’s a figure wearing all black, complete with a black hat that is pulled down to cover his face. You look over at the figure. 

“Can I help you?” You call over to him. He looks up and you can see a man with reddish hair look up at you, sporting a well trimmed goatee. 

“It’s more like how I can help you.” He says, with a vaguely cajun accent. Dean looks over at him, standing by the Impala with a hurt look on his face. 

“Benny. If you want nothing to do with this, I completely understand.” He says. His face is twisted in despair. You hadn’t seen him look like this in such a long time. 

“Wow. When Dean Winchester asks for a favor, he’s not screwing around.” He laughs lightly, pacing back and forth. “And who’s this fine young lady here with you?” He asks, staring at you with a smile. You introduce yourself to him, extending a hand, which he takes, kissing it lightly. For a vampire, you liked him. He was quite a gentleman. 

“I’m Dean’s girlfriend, and a witch.” He laughs at your words.

“Friends with a vampire, dating a witch, what kind of Hunter have you turned into?” Dean shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor and then back up at Benny.

“Benny, sending you back there is the last thing I ever wanted to do.” Dean says, shaking his head to show his sincerity. 

“I know. I know.” Benny says, no longer looking at either of you. 

“But my little brother is stuck down there.”

“This would be the little brother who wants to kill me, right?”

“You got access to the place.” Dean says desperately.

“By ‘access,’ you mean ‘getting beheaded?’” Benny says, joking bitterly. And with that, you finally understood why Dean looked so upset. You had never asked about how Dean had planned on getting into Purgatory. You assumed Benny knew a guy, maybe another Reaper, or perhaps a witch with some heavy mojo. But now you understood. Dean had said Purgatory was where the monsters went when they died. Dean was planning on killing Benny to send him to Purgatory to get Sam. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dean says, his voice breaking, your heart breaking with it. “It’s too much. It’s not like I’ve exactly been there for you lately.” His voice is shaking. You walk over to him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it to support him. You put your head on his shoulder, trying to bring comfort and strength. Benny smiles at you.

“What? Oh, come on, Dean. You know I love a challenge.” Benny says and Dean’s body stiffens under you. You look up to gauge his reaction, but mixed in with the relief is still sadness. Dean really does care about Benny. You wished there was something you could do, for the both of them. You look over to Benny. You’re surprised. Every other vampire, every other monster, you had ever met had a desire, a deep vicious desire to live. But here was a vampire, a natural enemy of humans and Hunters, willing to die to save another Hunter. Perhaps, the same way Dean misunderstood witches, you might have misunderstood monsters. Maybe there was good in some of them. 

Dean tells Benny that he owes him one, but Benny refuses, saying that he wants to go back to Purgatory, that being a vampire living on Earth, trying to get along with humans, was tough. He looks so heartbroken and tired and like the brothers, you are gripped with an overwhelming desire to protect. Dean’s hand tightens around your own and his voice becomes stronger as he tells Benny that he’s going to make this right, that he’ll be a better friend and help him more. Dean tells Benny that we’ll meet him up in Maine when he gets back topside. 

“You sure about this?” Dean asks, one more time. 

“Not my first rodeo mate.” Dean lets go of your hand and turns around to reach into the Impala to grab a machete. You walk over to Benny and look him in the eye. He meets your gaze.

“As a witch, I should have known better than to judge others based on what they are. You are a remarkable person Benny. Thank you for doing this.”

“Think nothing of it.” He dismisses you. 

“No, it means the world to the both of us. Sam is family to me too. I look forward to getting to know you better when you get back.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t smile back. You can see sadness in his eyes and a little part of you, that intuitive part that tends to be right despite what you wish, tells you that you weren’t going to see Benny again. 

Dean stands next to you and looks at Benny hard, before switching his machete to his left hand. He extends his right hand to Benny to shake and you can see Benny’s face soften. They clasp hands with each other, but instead of just shaking hands, they pull each other into a hug, like brothers in arms. 

“Y/N, look away.” Dean tells you. 

“No.” You reply strongly, looking to Benny. You were going to see this through. 

“Well, come on. You a wimp?” He chuckles nervously. The three of you just look at each other, tense, before Dean finally swings his blade. He slices into Benny’s neck and his body drops to the floor. 

“Do you mind…” Dean starts to say, before sniffing, and looking at the body.

“Helping you get his body in the trunk? Absolutely.” Dean nods back at you. You grab his legs and Dean grabs under his arms. You both grunt as you lift his corpse from the ground, placing it inside the Impala, Dean throwing the bloodied machete in after. You both get into the car as he speeds off towards Maine, to pick up all three. For the first half of the journey, you’re quiet, letting the music from the radio wash over you all, allowing Dean to mourn for a bit. 

After a while though, you ask him to tell you about Benny, explain how they met. Dean tells you that if it weren’t for Benny, he would have never been able to get out of Purgatory. For the first time, Dean gives you actual details on what is what like for him, to be in Purgatory along with Castiel and with Benny. You listen to him without interruption, nodding every so often, asking a question or two when you were confused about a detail, and allowing Dean to just vent. 

After several hours of driving, a couple of stops in between to eat and use the facilities and bury Benny’s body, you make it to the 100-Mile wilderness in Maine. He parks the car on the outskirts of the forest. 

“They’ll pop up way out in the forest, we’ll have to walk from here.” Dean explains. You nod to him.

“Dean?” You ask, as you both begin to walk. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Am I going to be able to see my dad? Or is he just going to disappear, since there’s no body for him to return to?” You ask him, gathering the materials for your light spell. He’s quiet for a moment, waiting for you to finish. 

“I’m pretty sure he’s going straight to Heaven when they get topside.” He tells you, not looking you in the eye. 

“Makes sense.” You say, your voice shaking a bit. You cast your spell, creating to globules of light, handing him one. 

“I’m-”

“Say sorry one more time and I’ll figure out what spells are good to cast with Hunter’s tongue.” You snap at him. He laughs and you both keep walking. After some time, he stops, looking around frantically. 

“They should be here by now.”

“Give it a bit of time Dean. They’ll-” There’s a crash to your side, and a bright light flashing. You can hear grunting off in the distance. You both look over and see Sam stumbling over a small hill, but just Sam.

“Sammy!” You run over to him, pulling him into a hug. He drops the knife he was carrying and hugs you back. You feel Dean’s body press up against you as he hugs Sam as well, both Winchester boys squeezing you in between. You let their warmth rush over you as you’re all finally reunited, a knot of tension finally loosening in your stomach. 

“Alright, I’m dying here.” You squeak out, and they both let go. As you slip away, Dean pulls him into another quick hug, before letting him go too.

“Purgatory, huh?” Dean chuckles, relieved that Sam is finally back. “A real garden spot, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” Sam replies breathily.

“Did you get him out?” Dean asks, looking expectantly. But Sam says he only got Bobby out, that Benny had stayed behind to fend off a bunch of vampires who were going to attack them. He adds that Benny hadn’t wanted to come back, which was something you had expected. 

“Dad?” You ask Sam, hungry for any news on him. 

“Ornery a hell, but good. He’s right here.” Sam says, lifting up his arm to show a new knife wound. 

“In there?” You ask, confused. Sam nods. You shrug, weirder things have happened.

“Well, let’s put the old man where he belongs.”

“Yeah. Solvo haec phantasmata in terram,” there is a glowing yellow and red light writhing under Sam’s skin as he continues the incantation, “et inde ad olympum.” Sam holds his arm up, the light turning a light blue, as it starts to rise up into the sky. That was your father’s soul, you realize. Tears flow into your eyes by the beauty of it. But suddenly, it turns into a cloud of red and black. Both the blue light and the red cloud are swirling around each other.

“Dad?” You scream out. 

“Hello boys.” You hear a familiar voice say. You look ahead to see Crowley, standing in front of you all with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the lights. “Bobby Singer, I’d know you anywhere.”

“Let him go, Crowley. He doesn’t belong in Hell.” Dean shouts angrily. 

“He does if I say he does. He’s inflicted untold damage on my kind. From where I sit, Hell’s too good for him.”

“You bastard!” You scream, running towards him, the boys moving behind you. 

“Really?” Crowley says, laughing, before flicking his index finger. All three of you are flung away, slamming into the trees surrounding you. You feel the breath get knocked from your lungs as you impact against the hard wood. You struggle against the invisible pressure holding you there, reminded of your fight with Sherry. “Say goodbye to your daddy you little thorn. Should have stayed in that hovel of yours, because when I’m through with him, I’m going to pay you back for letting my pet go.” He directs towards you. You just look at him angrily, biting back any smart remarks you wanted to say. 

You look at the two lights struggling against each other and watch as it slowly begins to descend back towards the earth. You scream out for your dad to fight back when his soul suddenly flashes white and shooting through the cloud and becoming stronger. You see a new figure appear suddenly, Naomi, looking rather pleased. 

“Naomi help him!” You yell for her. She doesn’t even look towards you, eyes focused on Crowley. 

“Let me see if I’ve interpreted the situation correctly. The Winchesters have freed an innocent from Hell, to which you are wrongfully trying to return it.” She says, business like. 

“Siding with them, Naomi?” You don’t know those two. Before they’re done, we’ll both be locked away.” They both continue a back and forth, but you’re happy to see that for the moment, the angel is on your side. What were you thinking earlier, believing demons were better than angels?

“Don’t call me a bureaucrat!” Naomi yells, extending her hand towards Crowley. Her eyes and hand begin to shine with angelic power and you’re hoping to see the end of Crowley. But he disappears before she can do anything. The three of you fall to the ground, and you hit your tailbone roughly. You watch Naomi raise her hand upwards and Bobby’s soul shoots up into the sky, towards heaven. Naomi looks to you and Dean. “I told you you could trust me.”

“Thank you!” You yell at her. She smiles towards you before disappearing in a flutter of wings. 

“What the hell was that about?” Sam asks, confused. 

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s just get this trial done.” Dean tells him, moving towards you. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think Crowley likes me very much though.” You say, like a highschooler who had just been rejected by the cool kids. Dean chuckles as you stick out your lower lip, pouting.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sam says, holding two pieces of paper in his hands.

“What’s wrong Sam?” You ask, walking over to him.

“Bobby gave me this before we left Purgatory. It has your name on it.” He hands the paper towards you, it’s old and crumpled, like an old sheet of notebook paper. It’s in your dad’s handwriting! He left you a goodbye! 

“Thank you Sam.” He nods to you. Sam reads the spells from the paper. As soon as he does, he groans in pain, grabbing his right hand and falling to his knees. 

“Sam!”  
“Sam!”

You both cry to him. Dean puts his hand on his shoulder, trying to get Sam to talk. You’re focused on the changes around him. You can see his hand as it flashes, looking like it’s burning on the inside. Sam balls his hand into a fist as the light starts to fade.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. It’s done. It’s done.” Sam strains to say. But it’s not fine. And you know it’s far from being done. You and Dean catch each other’s eyes, concern mirrored in both. Dean helps Sam to his feet and you start reciting a spell you’d learned from the book. It didn’t mend anything, but it was supposed to dull pain. It was a long one, not many components needed, just a few herbs and flowers that you kept on you. You muttered it quickly as the three of you walked back to the car. When it finished, you felt a wave of pain and exhaustion roll over you. 

The spell dulled Sam’s pain by allowing you to share it, but you weren’t going to tell the boys that. Every inch of you felt like it was being torn apart and lit on fire. You couldn’t imagine what Sam felt like if this was only half of it. You stumbled a bit.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, concerned. 

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Big spell, just tired.” You strain through gritted teeth, trying not to betray how awful you felt. “Sam?”

“Better. Thank you.”

“We need to keep going. We’ve got to get back to Kevin and quickly. I’ve got a real bad feeling in my stomach.” You tell Dean.

“You’re feelings haven’t be wrong so far.” Dean says, and the three of you pick up the pace, Dean helping you hobble along. When you make it to the Impala, you and Sam both look like you’re about to collapse. 

“You both okay?” Dean asks, concerned.

“Fine!”  
“Fine!”  
You both say, irritated. 

“Stop being a mother hen, Dean. We’re good.” You scold him. But you knew that you were both far from that. Until the spell ended, you were sharing Sam’s pain. And you knew that deep down in Sam, that Enochian spell was wreaking havoc with his body. You weren’t sure he was going to survive these trials. You move to the back of the Impala, laying down in the backseat. You were going to sleep off the pain, and when you ran out of magical energy, the spell would break, and you would sleep to recover. 

“We’re here.” Dean says, shaking you lightly. You open your eyes to look at him. You felt sore, but nowhere near as bad as when you started the journey. You looked to Sam. He looked exhausted, but he was coping. You’d have to make him more of that potion when you got back to the Bunker. The three of you make it to the boathouse, but there is an immediate and overwhelming sense of dread that overtakes you. 

“Kevin? It’s us.” Dean calls. The boys turn on their flashlights, waving it around the empty boat. You find the light switch, turning it on to see that the room had been completely cleaned out. 

“He’s gone.” Sam says. You look over to him and finally realize how bad he really was. The color had drained from his face and he had deep purple bags under his eyes. He looked a lot like Kevin had before you’d left. Exhausted, drained, defeated.

“Little geek made a run for it.” Dean says harshly.

“Maybe.” You amend. 

“Where do you think he went then? All of the demon sigils are still here.” Dean points out.

“I don’t know Dean. But something feels off.” You say, looking around. “Crowley and Naomi showing up today, and in the woods, just seems too convenient.”

“So you think he was kidnapped?”

“Naomi is an angel, Kevin is a Prophet of the Lord, and the boat wasn’t warded against angels.” You point out. 

“Maybe. But for now, we’ve got to assume he booked it. He was acting strange too.”

“But where would he go?” Sam asks, interrupting your back and forth with Dean.

“We don’t know…” Dean says, looking around one last time. “We should head back to the Bunker. And call Garth.” You and Sam nod in agreement. You had a feeling that the climax of this story was fast approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.   
> I really appreciate everyone sticking with me. I know it sucks whenever an author stops writing, but I swear I will work hard to get back on schedule! I definitely have an idea of where I want the story to go and it may even extend longer than I had originally intended.   
> But I've also felt the surge of inspiration to go back into my personal writing, so I'm going to be switching back and forth. I'll definitely finish this story before I abandon you completely. At least get to the season finale and then probably take a short hiatus. 
> 
> Again, thank you all! Let me know what you think and if there are any typos!


	21. Feelings Resurrected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charlie comes to the Bunker with a case, you all believe it's going to be a straightforward, open and close case. But things get weird real fast when Sam doesn't learn to take it easy and you all feel like Charlie's hiding something.   
> MC joins the cast in solving this bloated mystery and gets tripped up on her own when she too tries to go it solo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know, almost a month. But bright side, it's SUPER long. Like 37 pages long. About 10 more than average. There was a lot I wanted to get out in this chapter. Sooo, I hope you enjoy!  
> Also, there's some TW for trauma, anxiety attacks, and some vivid imagery in this episode. Essentially, I would skip the djinn nightmare if those things bother you. I also allude to the miscarriage again in the last section of the story, back in the Bunker. Know your limits, take care of yourselves, and don't read if you're worried that it might trigger painful memories.

You sit in the Library, holding the letter with your name on it in your hand in front of Sam’s laptop. Dean went grocery shopping and Sam was on bed rest, per your orders, and hadn’t woken up in almost a full day. You had given him the healing potion and a strong sedative so that his body could recuperate. You looked at the screen of Sam’s laptop, observing the security cameras to see if there were any changes. None so far. 

You turned your attention back to the letter. After more debating, internal dialogue, and agonizing over whether this was a letter of acceptance or rejection, you finally unfold it and look at the words.   
_  
My girl,_

_Sam had some paper in his pocket and we had a moment to sit while I’m here in Purgatory. I never once second guessed me being in Hell. I deserved it, after what I did to you. I am so sorry for never going to you, for not apologizing and bringin you back home. I regret what I said the moment I saw your car drive away. But I want you to know, I never abandoned you. I kept tabs on you, every step of the way. Every Hunter that stopped by that shop of yours, I either sent them to you for the supplies they needed, or they were friends who kept me updated.  
I was there for your wedding too, even if you didn’t know it. You looked beautiful. Did you like the flowers? The ones that were sent to you from that cancelled party? I heard you were trying to keep things simple and inexpensive, so when I realized you hadn’t had any flowers, I ordered a bunch of your favorites. Your mother would have cried if she had been able to see you in that dress. I should have gone up to you, but I was scared. I wasn’t sure if you would have ever forgiven me.   
I was there for Alex’s funeral too. I should have spoken to you then too, helped you through that heartbreak. But I still wasn’t sure if I could face you, so I sent all of that catered food and cleaning service to your house instead. I know you. When you’re depressed, you don’t like to eat, you’d just lay around the house. Damnit, I should have comforted you then.   
And then next thing you know, I was dying. I kept telling myself to call you, to go up to you, and I kept putting it off until it was too late. As I looked at those boys, you were the last thing I thought about before I slipped away. It was you I thought about most when I was in Hell.   
I should have had the boys bring me to you when I was a ghost, but I was ashamed. What would you have thought seeing me like that? What I’m trying to say is I am sorry. I should never have judged you for being a witch. It didn’t change you. You are a damn fine Hunter and I am proud of you. So very proud. You take your time before you see me again. I love you.   
Dad_

You folded the paper back up and kissed it, then pressed it against you, holding on to it as if you were hugging your dad again. You were beyond grateful for the letter. You were beyond grateful to know that even after you left, your dad hadn’t hated you, and that in the background he had still been there. But even that pissed you off too.

“You should have been there dad.” You whisper quietly. You look up to the ceiling, to Heaven. 

“You should have been there!” You screamed, allowing the tears to fall. “Ya idjit.” You whispered to the note. You heard the door to the bunker open and you wipe the tears from your eyes. 

“Hey.” You call over to him.

“Hey, got everything we need for the week.” 

“You got my ingredients too? For Sam’s potions.” 

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. I’ll help you put these in the kitchen.” You grab a few of the bags, which he had piled on his arm in an attempt to only make one trip, pecking him lightly on the cheek. You started putting the perishables away, leaving everything else for later.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Dean calls to you. 

“What? Why would anything be wrong? You’re paranoid Dean.” You laugh at him, walking back to the table in the library. You had been avoiding him a bit since you’d gotten back from the Second Trial. There was still a lot of anger in you from the revelation that your dad had been within reach and the boys said nothing about it. Not to mention, you’d hate to show weakness in front of them.

“You ain’t fooling anyone sweetheart. Puffy red eyes and tear stains on your cheek. What’s wrong?” He sits down next to you, placing a six-pack of beer down on the table and handing you one. “Spill.”

“I read the letter dad left, that’s all.” You sigh, taking a good swig of the beer, Margiekugel. It was good. He pulled you in, placing a kiss lightly on your head. 

“I know it isn’t easy. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I’ll be fine. He’s just an idiot is all.” You laugh bitterly, focusing back on the screen. You’re about to ask about it when you hear footsteps coming from the hallway. You both look up to see a shaggy and exhausted looking Sam Winchester, with grayish skin and sunken eyes. But despite looking sick, he did look much better than he did before you gave him your potion and forced him to go to sleep. 

“Man, I'm telling you, give me five minutes with some clippers, and…” Dean begins to say.

“Oh, shut up.” Sam says, cutting Dean off. “Uh, how long did I sleep?” Sam asks you. 

“I gave you the potion in the morning.” You reply. 

“Yesterday morning.” Dean adds in, grabbing another beer from the box. He throws it towards Sam, but Sam doesn’t move. You watch as it’s about to shatter on the floor when you throw your hand out and compel the beer to come to your hand. It flies through the air and slams roughly into your outstretched hand with a loud smack. You switch hands, the one with the impacting beer a little hurt. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever tried that actually…” Which is true. You had figured it was possible to use telekinesis to bring things to you if you were able to throw things back. It was kind of cool actually. 

“Sorry.” Sam says quietly. 

“It’s fine Sam.” You tell him. “No harm no foul right?”

“You okay?” Dean asks, trying to gauge how he feels.

“Yeah. Better than before. Y/N’s potion is doing the trick.” Sam says. You smile brilliantly, happy about it. But you’re pretty sure that if you cast that split health spell, you would probably learn that he was not fine. 

“Alright then. If you say so. Hey, look here, I’ve hacked into every security camera around Garth’s houseboat, Kevin’s hometown, where Mrs. Tran Lived…”

“And what’d you find?” Sam asks, moving up behind you and looking at the screen. 

“Well, nothing so far.” Dean says awkwardly.

“Dean, we have to find him.” Sam says desperately. 

“I know. I know, but Garth is out looking for him, we got a hunter APB out on Kevin, we will do what we can from here while you get better.” Dean says. 

“Better? I told you, I’m fine. We can still go out there, I can still hunt.” 

“Really?” You and Dean say unbelieving, you cocking an eyebrow. 

“Alright hotshot, let’s put that to the test then. Come on.” Dean says, getting up from his chair. You both follow him as he heads downstairs. Next to the garage, Dean had found a shooting range and had fixed it up with new targets and a deep clean. You and Dean had spent a couple nights practicing your shots in here. 

Dean grabs a pistol from the gun rack, checking the ammo, before taking aim at the targets. 

“This is stupid.” Sam scoffs. Dean ignores his brother and fires twice and hits the targets in the chest, both times. You smile at him as he gives you a wink, turning to his brother. 

“Alright Sam. You hit that target, we’ll talk about getting you back out there.”

“Psh, no problem!” Sam says, grabbing the gun out of Dean’s hand. He points the gun towards the target and his arm shakes slightly. He uses his other hand to steady the gun, which works. His stance looks stronger and he stops shaking. You watch nervously. Sam was a good shot. If he couldn’t do it, it would confirm your suspicion. His first shot goes wide, hitting the wall to the right of the target, and the second shot clips shy of the left shoulder. It hit the paper, but not technically the target. 

“Look, man, this second trial hit you a lot harder than that first one. I don't know whether it was just more intense or what.”

“Felt the same. Yeah, it felt worse the next day, but Y/N’s -”

“My potion is just a bandaid Sam. It’s not a cure.” You argue, cutting him off.

“I’m telling you-”

“Sam, look in the mirror.” You say delicately. 

“Listen, we’re gonna sit tight. Keep an eye on this until you get better. And you will get better.” Dean adds. Sam doesn’t argue back, but you watch as his posture deflates and his eyes become hurt. Dean starts to walk away and you give Sam a hug from behind. 

“It’s going to be okay Sammy. I’m still doing a bunch of research. This potion may not be perfect, but I will find something to help you.” You tell him. You let go and he turns to look at you, his lips tight. He nods.

 

You carry out the pot of chili you made to the table in the war room, where Sam and Dean were both looking for clues about Kevin on the laptops. Sam was determined to be helpful in some way. 

“Dinner’s ready if anyone is hungry.” Both boys grunt in reply and you shake your head bemusedly. You grab bowls and start spooning chili into them, handing each a large bowl and a piece of bread. 

“Got an email from Charlie. ‘In the neighborhood, found you guys a case.’ Found us a case?” Sam says, reading off his laptop.

“In the neighborhood? How the hell does she know where we are?” Dean asks aggressively, cocking his eyebrow. If Charlie found the bunker, it made everything much less secure. 

“Uh, well, she doesn't. Not exactly, at least. It says she tracked our cells to a twenty mile radius, then the signal went out. Huh. This place must be in some kinda, like, Bermuda Triangle.” Sam says. 

“What, are you saying we can make and receive phone calls from here and nobody can track us? Man I love this place!” Dean exclaims. 

“This place just got a hell of a lot safer.” You smile at them, sitting down with your own bowl. The three of you continue with your dinner in uncomfortable silence, not sure where to go from there. Sam was upset with the two of you for essentially clipping his wings, Dean didn’t want to keep harping on him, and you weren’t sure how to make the brothers stop being angry at one another. Perhaps a trip from their resident nerd would help.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Charlie is going to be here soon.” Dean says, looking at his cellphone. You assume she had just shot him a text. 

“I’ll go get dressed than.” You say, taking a final sip of your coffee. You stand up, smoothing out your pajamas, which had begun to ride up from sitting for so long. Dean’s arms wrap around you as he steps behind, kissing you lightly, teasingly, on your shoulder.

“Well that’s the opposite of what I want.” He whispers gruffly in your ear. You giggle, his breath tickling your neck, as you half-heartedly push him off. 

“Dean, last thing I want is to see Charlie again in my PJs. Best foot forward and all.” He holds you tighter, pushing your back up to his chest. He nuzzles your neck affectionately with his nose.

“You’re awfully loving this morning.” You say, letting your head fall back onto his chest. He leans over you and catches your lips with his, laughing into the kiss. You turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. As you open your mouth for him, you hear a loud gruff from behind. 

“Just _one_ morning, I want to come in, grab a cup of coffee, and not see a porno reenacted live in front of me.” Sam says irritably. He sits down at the table, taking a large sip from his mug. 

“Coffee or -”

“Yes mom. It’s your potion. No more coffee, I know.” You smiled at him apologetically. The caffeine in coffee counteracted the potion’s effectiveness, so you had banned it for him. You had started waking up earlier so you could drink it without feeling guilty when he watched you. 

“Well, I’m going to change. Sam, Charlie will be here soon so you might want to change too.” You turn around to give Dean a pop kiss. “Love you.” You tell him, before quickly walking away, sparing him from having to say it back. When you enter your room, you quickly change into jeans and a tank top, feeling comfortable in the familiar outfit. You look at your dresser. More photos had been added. One of your mom, one of your dad, one with you as a child with your parents, a new photo of just you and your dad for your eleventh grade homecoming dance, and your wedding photo with Alex. You pick up the frame of you and your dad. You never thought you would have it in yourself to forgive him. Just a few months ago, you would never have had a picture of Bobby out. In pops the Winchesters, and everything changes for you. Funny how life works. 

You walk back out into the hallway for the entrance of the Bunker, where Sam and Dean were waiting. 

“You boys changed quickly.” You said.

“You were taking a while. What, couldn’t decide between your black tank and your blue tank?” Dean teases, pulling his lips back into a smile, flashing a teeth. You look down at your tank top, a nice dark magenta.

“Haha, very funny.” You respond dryly, walking towards him as he drapes his arm around your shoulder.

“Still thinking about Bobby?” He asked you as the three of you walk up the stairs, Sam trailing behind.

“How’d you know?”

“You’ve got a look in your eyes, one you pretty much get whenever you talk about him or think about him.”

“Yeah...I just miss him lately. Can’t help but think about all the time we missed.”

“Start thinking like that, and you’ll get lost in it and never come back. Trust me, I know from experience.” He says, bitterly. You know he’s referring to his mother. Sam doesn’t remember Mary, but he does. You didn’t know Dean when his mother was alive and you never got to meet her. But Dean used to talk about her a lot when they were all kids, until one day, he just stopped bringing her up. 

“Alright, she should be here any minute.” He says, interrupting your thoughts. He slips his arm off your shoulder as he opens the door to the Bunker. 

“Sam?” You ask, turning around. 

“Still fine. Finished your potion and good as new.” He says dryly as he slowly walks up the stairs.

“You’re getting old there. Need a cane?” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy mood.

“Haha, you’re such a comedian.”

“Someone here has to be. You both are turning this into a soap opera, with all the brooding.” You smile at him, putting a hand out for him. He takes it, giving you a wry smile back. 

“We’re happy you’re here. We missed you. Me more.” He winks at the end, before drowsily walking out of the Bunker. You follow along. Both of the boys leaned against the trunk of the Impala, waiting for Charlie to arrive. You leaned against the side of the Bunker instead, watching your two boys fondly. 

A yellow compact car pulls up behind the Impala after a few minutes of waiting. Dean smirks as she slows down, but you take notice of Sam’s face. The color’s returned to his skin, but his eyes are still tired and he looks like he hadn’t been eating. There’s also something strange about his expression. He didn’t seem happy to see Charlie at all. 

As the Impala parks, you get up from the concrete entrance of the Bunker and walk over towards Charlie, who is greeting the three of you with a jubilant, “What’s up bitches?” She hugs you each in turn, you first, giving a good squeeze, which you return, and then Dean and Sam. As Charlie finishes hugging Sam, however, he grunts in pain and leans back heavily against the Impala. You make a move to walk over and check on him when Dean subtly grabs your hand, stopping you. 

“You okay, Sam?” She asks, concern in her voice, her eyes darting back and forth between the three of you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, no, I’m...I’m good...yeah.” Sam replies, deflecting the answer as was becoming common for him. You could see why Dean had stopped you. Guess the boys weren’t ready to tell more people that Sammy was doing too hot. 

“What’re you doing in Kansas?” Sam asked, trying to change the subject.

“Uh… a comic convention. In Topeka.” Your eyes narrow at her, although her attention is on Sam. While you had no way of disproving if there was actually a comic convention in Topeka, at least at the moment, something about her pause made you think that she wasn’t being wholly honest. Granted, neither were the Winchesters, but you wondered what Charlie Bradbury had to hide from you all. You listen to their usual back and forth before Sam offers to show Charlie around the Bunker. 

You break off from the tour group to fix up a light lunch as they give her the full tour and history of the Men of Letters. You had two reasons for breaking off. You wanted to give the boys some quality time with Charlie, after all they were old friends and you were a new cookie thrown into this jar. And you wanted to make sure that Sam had actually been taking your potion. You had no reason to doubt him, after all, why wouldn’t he take the one thing that was saving his life, but you were always worried with those two. When had they ever done what was actually good for them? You check the pitcher you had placed in the fridge, to keep the potion cool and from souring too quickly, and take note that it’s portions were less than the previous day. Then you go around making a few PB&J sandwiches before reentering the library, where the three had just finished the tour. 

“So what about this case you brought us?” You hear Sam ask.

“Ooo, I came at just the right time. Food?” You offer, sitting around the table. They all say yes and grab a plate, thanking you in turn. Charlie takes a bite and then starts her story:

“When I was, I saw this pop up over the wire.” She says, hand over her mouth as she chews. She shakes her hands free of crumbs and grabs something from her backpack. She pulls out a tablet and continues explaining, “Tom Blake, a checkout clerk in Salina, who went missing on his way home from work. He was found dead yesterday, his insides liquefied. Locals have no idea what happened, they tried to bury the report so people wouldn't freak, but I flagged it. I have eliminated the following things that go bump in the night…” She flips her finger across the screen, showing several pictures of monsters, many of which had been crossed off. You purse your lips, impressed. Last time you had met her, she hadn’t had nearly as much knowledge as she did now. 

“Wait a second. When did you become such an expert?” Sam asks, disbelievingly. 

“Well, after you guys left, I dug into all things monsters. I'm a wee bit obsessive. If "wee bit" means completely. I also found this series of books, by a Carver Edlund?” Sam and Dean exchanged awkward glances, and you looked at them both questioningly. Dean refused to meet your gaze. “Did those books really happen?” Charlie asks. Sam sighs in response, as Dean stares at his hands. 

“Books?” You mouth, trying to catch Dean’s attention. 

“Thanks for saving the world and stuff.” Charlie says to Dean. “Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies.” She tells Sam.

“Wha-” Sam looks towards Dean, who smirks in response. You try to catch his attention again, but he ignores you. “We need to find every single copy of those books and burn them.”

“I’m sorry, what books?” You ask, a little louder. 

“Don’t you worry about it.” Dean says, a little sternly. 

“Oh no, now I have to know. Charlie?” You ask her. 

“Don’t tell her a damn thing.” He says, his face turning red. Both you and Charlie share a wicked grin.

“There’s a book series-” Charlie begins, and both boys groan, Dean laying back against his chair and covering his face. “They’re called Supernatural, and they follow two Hunters named, get this, Sam and Dean Winchester!”

“No!” You exclaim, excited.

“And these two just confirmed it’s all real.”

“I need to read them.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean interrupts you both. “Good luck finding them, because we have it on good authority that they’re out of print.”

“But they’re online now, so…” Charlie trails off. You flash Dean a toothy smile and move to get out of your chair, before he grabs you lightly on the wrist. 

“Oh no you don’t. We’ve got work to do. And there’s no way I’m letting you slink off to read that garbage.” His grip is light, and you know that if you really wanted to, you could break it in a heartbeat, no effort involved, but his face was so mortified, you give up and sink back into your chair. For now.

“Thank you.” He says. “Alright, Y/N and I will go see if there’s anything to this, uh, case of yours. Come on.” He looks to you, letting go of you, finally, and stands up from his chair. You follow suit, moving around the table to stand next to him. 

“I'm coming with you.” Sam says, standing up to follow. But he staggers, the chair sliding under him as he grabs it to steady himself, nearly falling to the ground. You and CHarlie both jump to grab him. 

“Whoa, are you sure you’re okay?” She asks him. 

“Yes.” Sam tells her, placing a hand out to stop her from continuing her questioning. You have your own hands on his other arm, holding tightly, comforting. 

“Sam?” You ask him softly. He shrugs his arm out of your grip.

“I just said, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“No.” Dean says with conviction. “You’re taking a knee as long as you’re off your game.”

“I’ll go with you.” Charlie says quickly. You didn’t mind her tagging along. It would be nice to have another lady on the team, rather than these two strapping young men who always insisted on doing things the hard way. 

“No disrespect, okay, but there’s a big difference between reading about hunting and actually hunting.” Dean sneers at her. There was plenty of disrespect in that statement and you and Charlie both looked irritated. 

“I'm. Coming. With.” She says, punctuating each word. 

“It’s her case Dean. She brought it to us, not the other way around.” You tell him. He pulls you aside, a little bit away from Sam and Charlie. 

“We don’t need a third person.” He whispers to you. 

“We’ve had three for a few months now.” You whisper back, pointing out the obvious. 

“She’s not a Hunter.”

“As far as you know.”

“You’re suggesting we bring someone green on something that could kill her?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, because she obviously has done her research.”

“Research and being in the middle of it are two different things.”

“Then test her Dean. Make her shoot a gun like you did Sammy.”

“You know what, that’s not a bad idea.” He straightens up, smiling to himself like it was his idea. “She’ll miss like he did and then you and I will go investigate this.” He walks back to her.

“Alright Charlie, we’ll bring you along, on one condition. You gotta show us what you got. Follow me.” He says, and makes his way to their shooting range. You shake your head bemusedly at him as Charlie follows along. 

“What’s he going to ask me to do?” She whispers to you quickly. 

“Let’s see that aim of yours, my Queen.” You smile at her, which she returns before hurrying along after him. With that, you turn to Sam. 

“Alright, it’s just you and me now. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says, as he settles back into the chair. 

“Sam, I know you’re in a lot of pain, not just because it’s obvious and written all over your face.” He scoffs. “No,really, I know. Like magically know.”

“Invasion of privacy!” He sputters out, scandalized. 

“Oh please, don’t change the subject here. Did you take your potion this morning?”

“I told you, yes. And I feel great. Don’t know why you both are so set on benching me.” He laments. But he wasn’t great. His eyes were sunken in, and he looked gaunt. He was eating well, and if you didn’t medicate him, he wouldn’t sleep well either. 

“Sam, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you’re feeling. I can adjust the potion to target those specific symptoms.” He sighs heavily.

“I’m just tired, ok? I’m going to get some sleep. Keep me updated.” He says dismissively, before standing up and walking towards his room. _Stubborn fools, the both of ‘em._ You think, sitting down with a pout on your face. 

“Alright Pouty, get with Mopey. We’re going shopping.” Dean barks, heading to the entrance of the Bunker without breaking stride.

“I think I’m Mopey.” Charlie says next to you. 

“Probably. What’re we shopping for?”

“FBI clothes.

“Ah. That works. I need a new suit. Let’s go. I call shotgun.” You head towards the door towards Dean and hear a voice groan behind you. You take it that Charlie is not a girl who is into shopping, at least for clothes that aren’t reflective of her personal style. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

After about an hour or so, with Charlie trying very hard to force a movie style clothing montage, you both had a new suit. Charlie had chosen dark brown pants and a blue blazer. She wanted a splash of color in her wardrobe. After months of a plain black Walmart suit, you’d finally leveled up and bought a blue pinstripe suit. You were happy with the quality. And you had caught Dean giving you a side eye every so often. This suit was much more flattering than your old one. 

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here.” Dean says as he parks the Impala outside of the town’s hospital where the coroner’s office was located. He handed Charlie a fake badge for her to use and passed another to you as well. 

“Agent Hope?” Your raised an eyebrow to him.

“Too on the nose?” He smiled at you. You laughed at him and the three of you exit the car and head inside. Dean knocks on the door to Dr. Jennifer O’Brien’s office. A female’s voice tells them to come in. The three of you walk in. Dean takes out of his badge and you follow suit. Charlie fumbles with hers and you can hear her grunting nervously. You and Dean both glance over and see that her badge is upside-down. Charlie realizes her mistake and quickly puts the badge away, smiling anxiously. You and Dean gave a small sigh of exasperation. 

“Hi, uh. Special Agent Hicks, and these are my partners, Special Agent Hope and Special Agent Ripley. We’re here about the body with the creamy filling.”

“Ah right. I didn’t think you guys would have any interest in that.”

“A body that was found with its insides liquified. Yes ma’am. I’d say we find that very interesting.” You say. You never understood why these local police thought it was unreasonable for the FBI to come investigating. Some of these cases were beyond bizarre. 

“What my partner said. Mind if we take a peek at your files?” Dean said.

“Of course not. I just need your signed chain of custody request and it’s all yours.” _The signed whoda whatuh?_ You thought. No one had ever asked for any paperwork before. 

“Sorry, the what?” Dean asked. It was good to know he was just as confused as you. 

“Chain of custody request? From your supervisor to mine?” Dr. O’Brien asked, impatiently. 

“Right, uh. You know what.” Dean rummages through his suit pockets and pulls out a business card, which you know has Sam’s phone number. “You wanna call my supervisor, I'm sure he can give you the override or whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry. Unless he can give me the form, I can't give you access to the body.”

“But... FBI.” Charlie says sheepishly. 

“I understand, dear. But paperwork is paperwork.” Dr. O’Brien replies condescendingly. 

“Of course. Jennifer— uh, it is Jennifer?” He leans towards her over the desk. He was planning on using the flirting tactic. You purse your lips and grip him from the back of his collar. 

“Agent Hicks, I think I left the paperwork at the hotel. We can go back and get it.” You say, interrupting him. Sure, the flirting thing might work, but you weren’t about to stand by and watch him do it. 

“Right. Well Agent Hope, I guess we should go back and get it.” He says to you, through gritted teeth and a smile. He turns back to the coroner. “Until next time, Jennifer.”

“Dr. O’Brien will do. Good day Agent.” Her smile is empty as you all leave. The three of you are quiet as you exit the hospital. 

“That never happened in the books.” Charlie finally pipes up. 

“Wanna tell me what happened back there, Boo Radley?”

“I'm sorry, I froze. I couldn't Ctrl-Alt-Delete my way out. Real life roleplaying is hard.”

“And what about you?” Dean said, turning on you.

“Me?” You asked, incredulously. 

“Yeah you. What was that back there? I could have gotten her to let us in if you’d have just let me work.”

“And by work you mean flirt? Yeah, okay. Sure, next time I’ll sit by and let you flirt with another woman. Let me ask you something, would you sit by and let me do the same with another guy?”

“Now that is completely different!” Dean objects. Charlie is standing towards the back of the Impala, bug eyed, watching you both argue back and forth. 

“No it isn’t.” You say to him, poking him in the chest. “And you know it. Besides, I have a feeling the good doctor was not going to be swayed by you. Struck me as a Doris Day kind of woman.” You tell him, smiling gently. 

“We’re going to have to go back when she isn’t there then.”

“Oh, perfect. Breaking and entering.”

“No different than hacking.” Dean reasons. “Besides, we’re not going to go in person. Right Y/N?”

“Who me?” You ask him, as the three of you stand around the Impala. “What, you want me to astral project? That’s not gonna work Dean. I can’t interact with the body or anything else when I’m projecting. Nope, ole fashion B and E here.” You explain to him. 

“Oh great. The last time I went breaking it and entering, I got my arm broken!” Charlie whined.

“You didn’t have me.” You smile, using your magic to unlock the Impala.

“Hey, watch it there Morgan La Fay. That can hurt the interior mechanism you know.” Dean says, getting defensive about his car. You wink at Charlie.

“Sorry Dean.”

“Let’s just go and get some grub. We’ll come back when it’s dark.”

You were all in the middle of dinner when the police radio picked up a local call. Two teens had discovered a body on the railroad tracks. You all get into the Impala and drive over, seeing the blue and red flashing lights in the distance. 

“Showtime.” You say, a little somberly. You were really enjoying your burger before this interrupted it. You just hope that the scene isn’t too gruesome. You’d like to keep your dinner where it belonged; in your stomach. 

“Maybe you two should go first this time.” Charlie says, nervously. 

“Nuh-uh. Back on the horse, kiddo, come on.” Dean says, giving her a little push forward. 

“Y/N, help me out here.” She pleads to you.

“Only way to learn is through trial and error, right? Like the final boss in a game. You’re gonna die a few times before you figure out the pattern.” You smile at her. She lets out a little squeak and you all walk towards a police officer. She stares at Charlie, her eyes sharp as her features. 

“Hey there.” Charlie says as she approaches. She pulls out the badge, this time upright. “I am Special Agent Ripley, this is my partner—” She says, and pretty well too, before she’s interrupted. The officer’s eyes have a lot of irritation and her voice displays impatience as she tells Charlie to “save it.”

“Your other agent's over there.” She points a thumb towards another man in a black suit. For a second, you panic wondering if the real FBI had taken an interest. But then you notice who it actually it. 

“Took you guys so long?” Sam asks, irritated, as he walks away from the body and towards your little group. He looked more tired than when you had left him at the Bunker. His eyes were dull and his cheeks were sunken in. His hair, slicked back, felt lifeless and was turning gray in a few places. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asks angrily. You echo his sentiment. Not just because Sam was putting his own self in danger, but because four FBI agents was ridiculous and suspicious. 

“Working the case, same as you.” Sam explains. He points his notepad towards the body and continues, “Jake Hill, librarian. Went missing yesterday, no relation to the other vic. Coroner already swooped in and scooped up what was left of him.”

“Dr. O’Brien? She’s a ray of sunshine. Really likes to do things by the book.” You say, crossing your arms around your chest and tapping your foot impatiently at him. Sam avoids your gaze and looks back to his brother. 

“And with that, if there's no body, there's nothing else to see here, so why don't you head on home Sam?” Dean barks at Sam.

“Still have to talk to the witnesses.” Sam smiles, bargaining with his older brother. 

“Well, we can handle that. Charlie, why don't you go talk to the witnesses.” Dean says, waving her off. 

“But I don't wanna miss the broman—” Charlie begins.

“Come on Charlie, this will be good practice for you.” You interrupt her, tugging lightly on her arm, moving away from the brothers and towards two teenagers who were covered in blood and guts. You did your best to ignore the smell. They seemed to be handling the situation well, considering… Their noses were buried in a handheld and you can hear the noises or game blasts and pew pews. 

“Special Agent Hope and Special Agent Ripley. We’ve got a few questions for you.” You begin, pulling your badge out.

“What game are you playing?” Charlie starts. You’re about to snap at her for getting off topic when you see that both boys relax and start speaking to her. She established a rapport. She didn’t just go right into the nitty gritty of the things. Her humor and interest would probably make them more open about what they witnessed. _Good on you Charlie._

You step back and let her handle all of the fact gathering. The boys talk about seeing a blue handprint on Hill’s arm before it exploded on them. That could be good information, if only you can figure out what monster leaves a handprint before turning it’s victims into a grenade. After getting the information you both need from them, you start to head back towards the boys. 

“Hey, Y/N. Is Sam going to be okay?” Charlie asks, before they meet back up with the two feuding brothers. 

“Well, like Dean said earlier, the Trials took a real toll on Sam’s body.” You explain, not really wanting to go in detail about Sam’s conditions. Dean didn’t earlier, so you felt like he wanted to keep it quiet.

“Yeah. I know. But the Winchesters have a way of downplaying anything they do. How bad?” She asks you, placing her hand on your forearm. She looks you in the eye and you kept help but spilling your guts. She has these big doe eyes that eat right through you.

“Bad Charlie. Like, he might not make it bad…” It was the first time you had said it out loud. You stole a glance towards Sam, wiping tears that were threatening to drop. It should’ve been me. You thought. 

“That...sucks.” Charlie said, awkwardly.

“We’ll figure it out. I think there’s a way to counteract the effects. It’s just the matter of the right spell and the right combo of ingredients. Bigger the spell, the more that needs to be sacrificed. I’m figuring out that part now.” You explain. She nods to you. “Let’s tell them what you got.” You continue walking towards Dean and Sam. 

You don’t catch what Dean had finished saying, but whatever Sam had said irritated the heck out of him. Charlie told them about the handprint, which causes Dean to suggest that Sam research the phenomena at home. Sam bites back and the two begin arguing once more. You sigh loudly, finding the argument to be going nowhere, having heard the same thing countless times.

“Whatever man. You want to get yourself hurt, fine!” Dean says. “Come on Y/N.” He says, grabbing your hand and stalking off. With the temper he was displaying, you expected the grip to hurt. But it was strong enough to tug you towards the Impala, but light enough for you to easily break out of it. You let him hold your hand as you move to keep up with his pace. 

He unlocks the Impala door and is quiet as he enters the driver’s side. You steal a glance at his face as you buckle your seatbelt. His face is seething, and his lips are held tightly together, his jaw popping every so often. You felt bad. You wished you could do more to help them, to save Sam. You felt a familiar helplessness, one you hadn’t felt since Alex, enter your heart. 

“You need gas Dean.” You say, breaking the silence after seeing the gas meter.

“I know. I’m going to stop at a station on the way to the hospital.”

“Ok.”

More silence goes on and you look out of the window, watching the trees go past. Dean doesn’t even turn the radio on. He always had music playing. He stopped at a gas station and fills the Impala, still quiet. The silence burns your skull and you want him to say something, anything. It was often that he was this quiet. Dean was a ventor. When he was mad, he let you know it, loudly and with his entire body. This fury was new and different. This was a fury mixed with sadness, and that scared you to your core. You’d seen Dean upset and sad many times over, but he typically shook it off and replaced it with anger, humor, or whiskey. But you could see it deep in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He barks shortly, a little aggressively, coming into the Impala after filling the tank. You start suddenly.

“About what?” 

“Not sure. Felt like I should apologize. Tugging you along and then pretty much ignoring you the whole time. And for everything else…” Realization hit you. This had been the first time you’d both been truly alone since learning the truth about his friendship with Benny and the secret he kept about dad. 

“I don’t think now is the time-”

“Now _should_ be the time, because with everything going on, when are we going to talk about it. Especially since you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Dean-” You try to explain desperately. 

“I’m not mad at you for it. I get it. I messed up. I know that. But with Sam being Sam, I don’t want to lose you too.” He hits the steering wheel, frustrated. You put your hand over his.

“Hey, I’m not going to tell you I’m okay with what you did, because I would never lie to you,” At least not outright… You thought to yourself, “But I do understand why you did it. And I know Sam is being a pain in the ass right now and that upsets you, but you’re not going to lose me over something like this. We will talk about Benny though. And about you keeping the fact that my dad was on this plane of existence for…”

“Months.” Dean says, not meeting your eye when he does it. A little bit of heat radiates in your stomach, but you push it back down.

“Months. But we should talk about it later. After the case. I’m sorry for avoiding you Dean. I just didn’t know how to talk about it yet.”

“Yeah.” He says quietly, both hands firm on the steering wheel. You chuckle to yourself and lean in to kiss him. It’s quick and sweet, but enough to convey and reassure him. 

“I love you Dean Winchester. Pig headed and all. Now, let’s go finish this damned case so we can strap Sam into a bed. By the time I’m done with him, he’s gonna wish that he was doing the Third Trial. Rat bastard.” You say angrily towards the end. 

“What a woman.” Dean smiles, turning the ignition of Baby on and driving out of the gas station and towards the county office. Dean parks a block away and you both walk to the morgue. He tries the front door, just in case, and is unsurprised when he finds it locked. He moves to the side, smiling at you.

“After you.”

“Why such a gentleman.” You fan yourself dramatically before flipping your fingers up, listening to the lock click open. You forgot how much you enjoyed working solo cases with Dean; normal monster of the week solo cases. 

“I love it when you do that.” He said quietly. He opened the door slowly, peeking in, before moving inside the office that housed the morgue. You, however, were stunned for a bit. That had been the first time Dean had ever used the word love when referring to you. Sure, it wasn’t the same as “I love you,” but damn was it close enough for you to catch your breath in your throat. 

“You coming?” He asked you from inside.

“Yeah, yeah.” You snap out of your thoughts.

“We have one more door to open. Let’s go.” You nod to him and follow behind. You repeat your trick and open the morgue’s door. He enters inside slowly.

“You got that light trick of yours?” He whispers?

“Already on it.” You whisper back, taking out your lead rod as he turns on a flashlight. You both turn around, as the door closes, and start quickly when you see Sam and Charlie standing at the door, patiently. The look of pure terror and relief was hysterical, but considering your face was probably a mirror of his own, you decided to keep that one to yourself. You did, however, take a mental picture and stored it away for later. 

“What took you so long? Don’t tell me you both got distracted again?” Sam asked condescendingly. 

“We’re professionals Sam!” You exclaim in mock embarrassment.

“We stopped for gas man. Shut up.” Dean says, angrily. Dean was pissed that they had both beat you there. 

“Body’s this way, right?” You ask, trying to keep the peace and everyone on task. Sam nods and you all begin to make your way into the room to your right. As you and Dean were walking in, lights fell across the window on the opposite side of the corridor. Those were headlights. Who could be coming to the morgue at this time of night? Charlie ran off towards the window, waving away Sam and Dean’s protests. She disappeared around the corner for a moment before popping back into sight. 

“It's the coroner. I got this.” She whispered. 

“Trust her. We need to move quick.” You pulled them both inside the morgue. Dean looked through some files quickly, scanning the intake forms for which drawer the body was held in. 

“Should be in here.” Dean said, opening up a chamber in the middle. You kept your eye on the door, in case Charlie was unable to distract the coroner long enough. Sam was looking through medical forms and documents. 

“The hell?” Dean says. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning to him. But you can see the problem before he explains. “There’s no body…” 

“Sam?” Dean looks to him. Sam, confusion in his eyes, flips through the paperwork.

“It looks like they burned the bodies. Says here that they think it’s some kind of outbreak scenario or something. Even got the CDC to sign off on it.”

“These folks run a tight ship.” Dean says, closing the chamber door. “So does this mean we need to take SIlkwood showers now, os is this still a case?” He asks, moving towards the middle table. Sam joins him, the vic’s paperwork open as Sam snaps pictures of the documents. 

“Yeah, something about that mark the kid saw rings a bell. Probably have to check the lore, or maybe Dad’s journal.” Sam whispers back. 

“Guys, I would hurry up. I’ve got a bad feeling again.” You tell them. A lot of time had already passed, and there was no guarantee how long Charlie could stall the coroner. You start to hear the clacking on heels down the ways echo around the corridors. 

“Times up!” You whisper harshly. Sam scrambles to put the files away, but you’re not too sure that they have enough time to sneak out undetected. 

“ _Tin emfánisi enós chamailéonta kai ta grígora pódia._ ” You rapidly chant, taking out some dried newt’s eyes, a hawk feather, and ground mint. As you chant, you smash the newt’s eyes and mint together in your hand, creating a fine powder. The boys move to you after putting the files away and once all three of you are together, you use the feather to flick the powder into their faces and then your own. 

“Stay quiet and still.” You breathe out, opening the morgue door and pushing them out. You feel the magic pull from deep in your gut and surround the three of you. You hold on to their arms tightly and push them against the wall. The Winchesters had come to deeply trust you over the past few months, and they obediently move with you. You can see their bodies becoming obscured to your vision. It wasn’t that they were invisible, but you found it hard to look in their direction. There was a lot of disturbances in the image surrounding them, and they sort of blended into the background. Which was good, because that was the point of the spell. It made people hard to see and hear. Downside, it wasn’t exactly a weak spell, and you had cast it on three people. Not to mention, it only lasted as long as your magic lasted. You felt like you had maybe two, three minutes tops, before it ran out and you three would pop back into full view. 

You watched as Dr. O’Brien and Charlie came around the corner. Charlie was talking fast and nervously about shoes, which the good doctor did not seem to want to help her on. When Charlie noticed that you had all disappeared, she said good night to the coroner and started to walk away quickly. You pulled the boys to follow her, your feet making no noise as your shoes clacked along the floor. The boys moved on ahead and you glanced back for a moment. A chill went down your spine as it seemed like the coroner was staring right at you as you moved. It was almost like you had both locked eyes, but after a moment, she shrugged her shoulders and went inside the morgue. Had that look been just your imagination. After all, she could have been looking at Charlie as she walked away…

Once Charlie opened the door leading to the outside of the office building, you, Dean, and Sam squeezed through quickly, trying to keep the door’s opening and closing seem as normal as possible. Once the four of you were in the clear, you dropped the spell, exhaustion hitting you like a ton of bricks. You bend down, putting your hands on your knees to steady yourself. 

“Holy sight batman! Where did you guys come from?” Charlie exclaimed. 

“Imperceptible spell.” You say, gasping like you had just run a marathon.

“You good?” Dean asks, going to help you up. You wave him away.

“Yeah, just tired. Never used that on three people at once before. Never used it before period. I’m fine.” You pulled yourself up to stand up straight when another wave of exhaustion hit you and you stumbled. You were about to fall to the ground when Dean grabbed you. 

“Woah there. I got you.” You smile at him.

“Guess that spell kicked my ass harder than I thought. I’ll be okay with some rest.” You reassure him. You’d felt worse, that was the truth. You hadn’t depleted your magic, which was a good thing. With Dean’s help in getting yourself steady, you were able to stand on your own two feet without assistance. 

“We should head back to the Bunker to do some research. I’ll drive Charlie. You got Y/N?”

“Charlie will drive you and yeah, I got Y/N.” Dean corrects him. “Come on.” You both walk back towards the Impala, leaving Charlie and Sam who went the opposite direction towards her yellow bug. You were sure the Impala had been parked much closer. You hadn’t truly realized how far a block was before and Dean had to half carry you the whole way. Once you were in the car, you drifted to sleep quickly. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke up in your bed, covers drawn up to your neck. When you pulled the blanket off, you saw that you were in a pair of pajama pants that had caution tapes all over it and a plain black tank top. Dean must have changed you before putting you into bed. You smiled fondly. You had given him permission to do so last time you’d passed out from overuse of magic. You didn’t particularly enjoy waking up in your suit. It crinkled the fabric and made for an uncomfortable sleep. 

You walked towards the Bunker’s library, where you could hear Sam, Dean, and Charlie discussing the case. You heard Sam mention dragons, but Charlie dismissed him. When you walked in, you saw Charlie crossing out a monster on her tablet. They were all gathered around the table and you moved to the seat next to Dean. 

“Hey, how do you feel?” He asked, looking at briefly before going back to look through his father’s journal. 

“Better now. How long was I asleep?” You asked him. 

“Few hours. Not long at all.” He said, before he tapped on the book. “Got it. Djinn.”

“Djinn vics don’t get liquified.” Charlie said.

“No no no, not regular Djinn. According to this, there's a bastard offshoot. Uh, their eyes light up blue, they pass as humans, all that regular jazz, except these leave their victims with jelly-like insides, and supposedly, when they poison their victims, they leave behind a blue handprint.”

“I hate that thing.” Dean smiled at Charlie. “And I want one.” Charlie continued, echoing what Sam had said earlier. 

“So these things die like regular Djinn?” Sam asked. His fist clenched tightly and he twisted his jaw. He was in pain again. 

“Silver blade dipped in lamb's blood, yeah. And now we just gotta find the asshat.” Dean responded. 

“Sounds like we’ve got a game plan now. Sorry I couldn’t help with the research.” 

“It’s fine. We got it just fine.”

“Alright, well, breakthrough means snack time to me,” Charlie says, putting her tablet down and getting up from her seat, “and I wanna just stretch my legs. I will pick us up some grub, and unlike you, Sam, I will not forget the pie.” She grabs her things and walked out of the library. Sam smiled and waved at her. You and Dean exchanged glances.

“She seem a little off to you?” Dean asked.

“Since the second she got here.” Sam responds. 

“Give her the benefit of the doubt fellas.” You say, trying to convince yourself more than the boys. You also felt like something was weird. Your words from earlier, “this is her case,” ring back in your ears. You really hope she doesn’t go off Hunting on her own. Djinns were bad news. 

“I am going to work on some potions.” You tell them, getting up and moving to the kitchen.

“Hey Y/N.” Dean called to you.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“That spell… What’s it mean?”

“Looks like a chameleon with swift feet.” You smile at him, flashing teeth, before turning around and continuing to the kitchen. You can hear Dean say under his breath, “magic is weird,” and laughed at it. 

You got back to work making another batch of the sun potion for Sam. This time though, you added an extra ingredient to the concoction: dried calendula. The flower helped in healing processes. It was used, herbally, as an antiseptic, but under your skilled hands and magic, it worked as a catalyst and made it stronger. You watched as it turned golden yellow again, a sign that the magic had taken effect and it was good to go. When you walked back into the library, after a couple of hours of potion brewing, you watched Sam hanging up his cellphone. As he did, he fell into a coughing fit. You sped over to him, the tonic in outstretched for him.

“Hey, hey. Sammy, you okay?” Still coughing, he nodded at you, sitting down in the chair. “Here, try this. It’s stronger this time.”

“Thanks.” He took a gulp and swallowed. Once he did, he let out a sound of disgust. “Still tastes like sweet garlic.”

“Baby.” You scold lightly as he continued to drink. Dean walks in as Sam continues to cough lightly in between gulps. Dean rolls his eyes, and you could tell he was upset about Sam’s conditions. You catch his eye as he is about to comment on Sam’s coughing. He stops and changes gears.

“Any word from Charlie?”

“Uh, no. And there was no comic convention in Topeka. I don't know why... I mean, why would she lie to us?” Sam answers.

“One way to find out.” Dean responds, pulling his phone out. 

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“When I called you from her phone, I turned on her GPS.” He explains, his finger flying across the phone as he searches for her signal. 

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?” You ask incredulously. 

“It’s about to help us find her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but-”

“If it helps, that’s all that matters.” He says, promptly silencing you. You don’t know why you had tried arguing with him. He had always been the ends justify the means kind of guy. 

“Got it. Let’s go.” Dean says.

“All of us?” Sam asks, tentatively. Dean eyes him up and down.

“Finish her potion and don’t let me regret this.” Dean tells him, sighing. “And you, get dressed. Quickly.” He barks again, clearly irritated at the whole situation. 

“Yes sir!” You salute him mockingly. He goes to snatch at you, but you dodge out of the way and scurry off to your room to change into jeans and a t-shirt.

The three of you hop into the Impala, speeding over to the location that Dean said her phone was located. You all arrive at an apartment building, which was a dull tan color on the outside. There were three stories, meaning her apartment was one of three as the location didn’t give you all the exact room. 

“We’ll start on the first floor. Y/N, all I want you to do is unlock the doors and then stay back.” Dean orders. You were going to protest again about how you were more qualified to face a threat than he was, but decided against it. He was wound up enough as it was and you know he only meant well by it. 

You unlock the door and Sam and Dean push their way in, calling out for Charlie. You really hoped that it was her apartment and you didn’t get caught breaking into a civilian’s home. You didn’t really feel like running from the cops at the moment. The room was a mess. Furniture had been flipped over and some papers had been scattered. As the boys looked for any sign of Charlie, you surveyed the effects. She had a wall to the side that was pinned with articles of the case you were all investigating, as well as a few others she had been researching, and a few drawings of monsters. She also had another table with her consoles stacked up. But only her couch and coffee table had been disturbed. There had definitely been a struggle. 

You walk over to the table that housed her laptop and saw several passports and IDs with Charlie’s face on it, but various aliases. There was also a gun laying next to the box and her laptop was opened on a financial website.

“Uh, hey guys. You might want to take a look at this.” You call to them.  
“What the hell is this place?” Dean asks, looking around as you showed the fake IDs to them.

“Whatever it is, it belongs to Charlie.” Sam says, sitting down in the chair next to you, in front of the laptop. 

“It’s her Bunker guys. I think she went full Hunter.”

“No. No way.” Dean dismisses you. “Okay, so we got no forced entry, so either it was somebody that she knew, or...

“Djinn.” Sam finished. You turn to watch Dean picking something up.

“What do you have there?” You ask. 

“Her phone. Now we know why she was answering our calls. Got anything on her laptop?”

“Yeah, um,” Sam says, looking through her laptop, “she's been making donations through her aliases to Shawnee County General here in Topeka.” Dean walks to the otherside of Sam. 

“What, a charity?” He asks, squinting at the screen. 

“A patient. Gertrude Middleton.” Sam clarifies.

“We need answers. I'll take Gertrude, you two keep Djinn-digging.” Dean says as he walks to the door.

“Us two?”  
“Us two?”

You and Sam say in unison. Sam had twisted in the chair to look at Dean. You were just as surprised. Typically, Dean didn’t like you leaving his side, especially on a Hunt. 

“Listen, we both know that Sam’s hurting. Y/N, I trust you and I know you can keep Sam safe if anything happens. And vice versa.” He adds at the end, to spare Sam’s feelings.

“You’re leaving Y/N to babysit me?” Sam asks angrily. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You say, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Just like old times Sammy. We got it Dean.” You say, keeping Sam from arguing any further. 

“Good. I’ll call you if I get something.” You both watch Dean walk out the Bunker and you look at Sam. 

“Alright Sammy. Let’s see what we can find out about the good coroner.” You smile at him. He cracks his fingers and smiles before getting to work on his laptop. While you do that, you do a little more research on Djinns. You hadn’t really come across them before and wanted to learn a bit more. Sam tells you that Djinns put their victims to sleep and an antidote was needed to wake them up. You got to work on that too. After it’s done, you hear Sam call your name and walk over to him. 

“Find something?”

“Yeah. Our friend, the coroner, she used to be an assistant. Seems there was a body just like our friends here back when she was an assistant. She “accidentally” sent a John Doe to be burned rather than to the CDC.”

“So she does it again years later?”

“No. Get this, the CDC says they’ve never heard of her.”

“Someone is slipping. Maybe I should pay a visit to her office again.”

“Better yet, there are two properties that she owns. An abandoned warehouse and a three bedroom home.”

“Warehouse is probably a bad idea without Dean. I can’t sit here doing nothing. Sam, what’s the address to the house?” You ask him.

“What? I’m not letting you go off alone.”

“It’s just reconnaissance. What’s one Djinn doing with a three bedroom home right? I’ll pop by, take a look, be back before Dean. And then we can definitely cross that off our list.”

“No way.” Sam says strongly. The strength is ruined though as he goes into another fit of coughing. 

“I’ll get you another mug of the potion. We may have to up your dosage.” You tell him quickly.

“I’m fine.” He says, shaking it off.

“I gotta do something Sam.” You respond dismissively, heading back to the kitchen. You grab another mug of the potion for him. You sigh deeply. It wouldn’t be hard. Slipping a little lavender into the potion. It wouldn’t knock him out completely. Just a few minutes. Enough time to get out and then you’d call him and tell him you’re fine. You to grab the lavender, your hand hovering over it. 

“I can’t do it to him…” You say to yourself and walk back over to Sam, handing him the potion. He takes it begrudgingly. “The whole thing Winchester.” He drinks it in one gulp. 

“Man that doesn’t taste any better.” He says, going back to his laptop. 

“Sam.” He looks up at you. “I’m going.” You tell him, with finality, standing up and heading to the stairs of the front door. 

“Hold up, we both know that that’s dangerous!” He says, going to follow you. 

“As dangerous as leaving the Bunker to go investigate a case that Dean told you to take it easy on?” He goes to open his mouth, but you can see that he doesn’t have a retort. You smile, satisfied with yourself. “I’ll be fine Sam.” 

He nods at you, realizing he can’t win this argument. You head to your Saturn and start to drive to the address Sam gave you. A quick little astral projection to see what was inside, maybe find out if there was more than one Djinn, and maybe even find Charlie. You park your car outside her home. It was a quaint one story home, one of those that looked small on the outside, but was probably longer than it seemed. It was a sky blue with white trimming. The inside was dark. No one seemed to be home. You recited your spell and felt your body fall back against the car seat as your soul left your body. 

You walk to the front door and hesitate. You weren’t exactly invisible when you projected and witches and monsters could potentially see you. You slapped your cheeks. You were in projection form. No way to hurt you like this. You stepped through the door and inside the house. It all seemed so...normal. There were pictures on the wall of Jennifer O’Brien when she was younger, along with a man. They were both smiling at each other and were both wearing lab coats. The man was holding a diploma in his hand and wearing a graduation cap. She must have been in a younger year because she didn’t have a diploma in hand. 

You moved in further and walked into the living room. The home was spotless and clean. You look at another picture frame that was on a small table next to the couch. You could see O’Brien’s smiling face again, along with two little smiling faces. A young boy and a young girl. These are monsters, but they seem like normal people… Just like witches. You feel a little bad for them. Until you remember what it is they do to eat. 

“What are you doing here?” You hear a small voice call. You jump, startled, and turn around. There’s a young teenager standing at the entrance to the living room. She has blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and is wearing jeans and a crop top. She had to be 13, maybe 14 years old. You didn’t respond to her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Her eyes glowed a light blue. “I’m calling my mom!” You freaked out and she ran off. Was the family home? You snapped back to your body. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” You panic, pulling your phone out to call the Winchesters. They had to know there were _three_ Djinns! As you go to call Dean, there’s a pounding on the window. You heart is racing and you look at the window. There’s a teenage boy staring at you. 

“Shit!” You turn the key in the ignition, but the door is yanked open before you get the chance.

“Your smell. It’s so...good.” He says, grabbing your arm. Blue light shines up his arm, like a tattoo. 

“Let go!” You scream, throwing your hand out to push him back. You unleash your magic and watch as he’s thrown away from your car. You look down at your arm and see there’s a blue handprint on it.

“Mother fu-” A weird sensation takes you over and there’s a fog over your brain. You don’t know what’s happening to you, but your eyes close. 

 

When you open it again, you’re in an unfamiliar room. You sit up, allowing soft bed covers to fall. You look down at your clothes, which are much different than before. You’re wearing pajamas, a soft baby blue pants with little clouds and a top that says, “ _My head isn’t in the clouds, but on a pillow._ ” You look around at the room. There are a few pictures around, one of which is of you and Dean, in a wedding dress and tuxedo…!

“What the -”

“Mommy!” A little boy runs into the room, jumping on the bed. He looked so much like Dean, but he had your eyes and your nose. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. Your heart almost broke in two. How could you be here? Whose child was this, because he certainly wasn’t yours. You don’t recall ever marrying Dean or even having a kid…

“Woah there, I told you not to wake Mom up!” You hear Dean’s bark, as he scoops the little boy off the bed. “Robby, we were supposed to finish breakfast first, before we woke her up, remember?” Robby...Like….

“Happy mother’s day.” Dean says, leaning in to kiss you.

“I, uh, I don’t understand what’s going on…”

“That’s alright. You took a bit of a hit the other night during our last Hunt. Told you to sit it out and just relax with Robby. You’re so damn stubborn.”

“Language in front of the baby!” You scold instinctively. _Where the hell did that come from?_

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles. “Come on, I made your favorite.”

“We made your favorite!” Robby insisted. 

“We made your favorite.” Dean corrected. You followed the two out into the kitchen where a grandiose breakfast lay on a dinner table. As well as a messy bowl of cereal. 

“I made the cereal!” The small boy grinned proudly. You kneeled down, tussling his head.

“That’s my favorite part. Thank you Robby.” You tell him, kissing him lightly on the top of his head. You fell quickly into the role, but something nagged at you. Like you’d done this before. Like you weren’t supposed to be here.

“Mommy?” Robby’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Right! Sorry! Let’s eat.” You clasped your hands together happily. You go to sit down when the door to the house burst open. You, Dean, and Robby jump, startled. 

“Don’t move!” Sam’s voice calls as he bursts into the kitchen, a shotgun loaded at the ready. 

“Sam, put the gun down. You’ll scare him!” You yell, referring to Robby, who was clinging to Dean, shaking. 

“Sammy…” Dean says, apprehensively. Sam nods to Dean, as if they were confirming something. 

“I found the proof Dean. It’s been her this whole time.” Sam says. You start to turn backwards towards Dean.

“Dean, what is he…?” You don’t get to finish your question though. Before you even know what’s happening, you feel a prick in your neck and the world starts to go black. The last thing you see before hitting the floor is Robby’s cold eyes, staring at you, frowning. 

“Mommy’s a monster?” He asks. And your eyes close. 

You wake up again, but this time, you aren’t in a warm bed with fuzzy pajamas. Now you’re in a pitch black room. Your hands are restrained in manacles behind your back. You get up lazily, a metallic taste in your mouth. Dean had drugged you. He drugged you! 

“Hello? Hello!” You yell. You try to feel around the room, and your hands touch cold steel almost immediately behind you. You feel to the other side and find that you’re barely in a room. It was more of a small closet, reinforced with steel. Panic started to set in. The dark room, the enclosed space… _Fear._

“Anybody!? Let me out!” You scream, ramming into one of the walls. Your shoulder hit hard metal, hurting and reverberating in your body. You slam into the other side, trying to get free. 

“Let me go!” Panic rises in your throat, bile threatening to spill out of your mouth with each scream. Tears are falling down your face and pure terror claws at your stomach. 

“Let me out of here please!” You scream again, slamming once more into a wall. This time, you are met with just the clang of flesh on metal, but a pounding from the other side. 

“Shut your damn mouth. We’ll get to you soon.” That voice. 

“Daddy?”

“Don’t call me that. I ain’t no father of yours.” The gruff voice responds, and your stomach sinks low to the floor and your tongue catches in your throat. 

“Daddy, let me go. Please! I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“All you witches. You’re the same. Always saying the same thing. But we’ve got just the thing for you.” Bobby spits and you can hear the footsteps walk away. 

“How could this have happened? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t tell them I was a witch...” The words left your mouth, but a part of you screamed that it wasn’t true. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, this seemed wrong. How could Bobby be alive? Wasn’t he…

You didn’t have much time as the door opening snapped you back into reality. Dean’s cold eyes stared at you. No, not cold. Angry, disappointed, disgusted, hating...cruel. 

“Dean, please. I should have told you…”

“Save it witch.”

“Dean-”

“I said quiet!” He snarled. You shiver. He had never spoken to you like that before. You’d never heard him speak to anyone like that before. Like you weren’t human. Tears poured down your face.

“Oh spare me. Get up!” He grabbed you by the scruff of your shirt, tugging you to your feet. But you’d lost your own strength and fell once he got you out of the dark closet. 

“Damnit, get up.” He yanked hard on the manacles, bringing you painfully back to your feet. This time, you tried to stay up. You moved your feet, walking forward as he pushed against your back. You tried to summon your magic, but nothing happened. These were the witch binding manacles… You looked up, blinking against the harshness of the sunlight. You were in some kind of abandoned factory, light streaming in from the holes of the roof. Straight ahead, you saw your little boy placing hay on a pile. A large pile of straw and wood, with a long wooden pole in the middle. A pyre.

“No! No!” You pulled against the restraints. And memories flooded back to you. This was not your first time here. You’d seen this before, experiences this before. Fear gripped you as the memory of flames against your skin creeped into your mind and you could feel the sensation run over your body. You turn to face Dean. Not your Dean, but something else’s Dean.

“Please, not again. Not again! If you ever loved me…!”

“Enough of your tricks. Loved you? You tricked me! Used me!” He turned away as NotSam came and grabbed you.

“Sammy, we’re like siblings. Please don’t do this! We grew up together.”

“I grew up with Y/N, not a witch.” He pulled you towards the pyre, pushing you against the pole. You struggled in vain though, as NotBobby held your arms back. You tried to kick out, but NotSam placed a strong fist to your abdomen, knocking the fight right out of you.

“Daddy, please…” You plea in vain. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” You look around, searching for help. At the bottom of the pyre, Robby, heaping hay onto the pile. 

“Robby, honey, please. It’s your mommy.” You croon.

“Uncle Sammy says you killed mommy. I hate you.” The boy says harshly. You whimper pathetically, and go slack against the ropes that are keeping you up. The three men and the young boy stare at you as they move back. 

“You should’ve run when you had the chance. _Monster._ ” NotDean spits out. You watch as he is the one who strikes the match, holding the little fire in between his fingers.

“Not him. Not with his face. Anyone but him.” You beg. The world moves in slow motion as he throws the match and it hits the bottom of the pile. Smoke begins to rise as the hay catches. It spreads quickly and you feel the heat rise beneath you. How many times have you been burned alive? Too many. You’d lost count, but you didn’t want to do it again. Didn’t want to feel it again. _Someone! Anyone! Dean!_ Your mind cries out. 

“Y/N!” A familiar voice screams behind you. “What in the hell!” You hear running as the voice comes towards you.

“Help! Help me please!” This was new. This didn’t happen in the other cycles. 

“Stop him!” NotBobby screamed.

“He has your face!?” NotSam says.

“A familiar?” NotDean questions, but the three hesitate and you hear the sound of a blade cutting through rope. You fall to the ground, just as the flames begin to reach the top of the stacks.

“Now’s not the time to go boneless. Let’s go!” Dean’s gruff voice says urgently behind your ear.

“There are two daddies!?” Robby exclaims, confused, as Dean pulls you to your feet and you both run. Your hands are still shackled behind your back and your bare feet smack against the cold concrete floor. The building felt like a maze, like it stretched impossibly far, with so many twists and turns. You could smell the smoke behind you, hear the screams of the three men giving chase. There was a burning in your side, telling you to stop, and your body screamed at you to stop, but you couldn’t. If you did, you’d die. And just as you thought you couldn’t run any further, you’re yanked to the side and into another room. The door closes harshly and you watch as Dean places a pipe in the door jam, to make it harder to open.

“Dean?” You question him, but he places his hand against your mouth and shushes you. His breath tickles your ear and a familiar sensation pools in your stomach. This was your Dean. You both wait quietly, patiently, a small handgun in Dean’s hands, and your own restrained uselessly behind your back. You hear the footsteps and shouts as they pass by the door. And you wait. And wait. And wait. Until finally,

“I thought I’d lost you!” Dean whispers, putting his hands around you. Your entire body relaxes and you hadn’t realized how tense and tight you had been. He places his hands against your cheeks. “You okay?”

“I’d be better if these weren’t on me.” You said truthfully, referring to the manacles. Dean looks around and grabs a stray hammer that is quite conveniently located on the steel table in the middle of the room, which seemed to serve no purpose whatsoever. He gently moves you to the table. He places his jacket around your hands, as a cushion between the table and you.

“Trust me?”

“Always.” And he quickly slams the hammer against the chain, breaking it immediately. 

“Convenient.” You say, rubbing your wrists. The manacles were still on, but with your hands free, you felt infinitely better.

“That’s how it is in a dream.”

“Did I…?”

“Get caught by the djinn, yes.”

“Damnit. What a rookie mistake.”

“What do you remember?”

“I recall going to the doctor’s house and astral projecting. Than a little girl found me-”

“Wait, a girl? Not a teen boy?”

“No, the teen boy caught me outside in my car.”

“Shit. There’s three of them? Damnit, we have to get out of here.”

“How?”

“We got Charlie out of her dream by helping her get over her fear. So we’ll do the same with you. So what’s your big fear?” He said, looking at you expectantly.

“I can’t just blurt it out!” You tell him, feeling very self conscious. How could you tell him what you were dealing with. What was eating away at your since he came back into your life. 

“Well, you’re gonna have to sweetheart. Cause otherwise, we’re stuck reliving this nightmare over and over again.”

“No!” You screech, as he shushes you again. Renewed panic starts to set in and you shiver, almost uncontrollably. “Please, not again. Not again.”

“Holy shit. Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.” He holds you against him, stroking your hair. “At least tell me what the nightmare is.” You take a deep breath, gasping against the tears. Damnit, get a hold of yourself. You scold lightly. You move away from him, and without looking him in the eye, tell him everything. Right down to the horrible smile NotDean gives you right before you black out and the dream starts fresh. 

“Son of a…” He says, backing away from you, brushing his hair from his face. “You really think I’d… To you… How could I ever?” He paces the room, speechless. You look to the floor in shame.

“The look you gave me, when you found out I was a witch. It still haunts me sometimes Dean. And how you treat other witches...My biggest fear is one day, you’re going to wake. You and Sam, and you’re gonna realize, a Hunter and a Witch, just isn’t right.” You whisper. 

“I thought we were passed this though. I told you I could never hurt you. I apologized.” He said, turning to you.

“Dean, none of that matters though. Words and words. Look at your actions. Look how you treated James when you found out he was a witch.”

“James is different.” Dean says, trying to explain it away.

“He’s not Dean. He and I are the same type of witch. We’re the same. But you didn’t trust him the second you found out he could use magic.”

“That’s because I surprised! And I don’t know what he did with his magic.”

“You knew what I did with my magic, and still brought those manacles! And you used them! On him and on me!”

“I already said I was sorry about those! And that wasn’t their intention!”

“You still used it against me. Face it, you treat all witches the same.”

“Not. Not you. You’re different. You’re you!”

“And what if, someday, you decide I’m not really me anymore…?” You whisper. You don’t know why it took you so long to question him. You really wanted to believe that he could get over his prejudice, but you knew how he felt. And his treatment to Benny, accepting a vampire and treating him like he was the only exception, it had only reopened old wounds. 

“Y/N…”

“What if one day, I go down a dark path. Use my powers for evil, hurt someone, hurt you? Then what?”

“I could never hurt you.” He says, his face contorted in pain. 

“And why not? What’s stopping you? What if I turn into a monster?!” You scream. You both hear footsteps coming towards the door. The NotPeople were coming back, and it seems they knew you were finally here. 

“Then we’ll fix it!” Dean says urgently, looking to the door. Fists banged against it and you watched the pipe begin to bend. 

“There’s no fixing that Dean. What if one day you wake up and realize you made a mistake? Or something bad happens and you decide to blame me? Or I truly do lose control and snap? What’s going to happen!?” You scream again. The banging gets louder, faster. Fear begins to wrap around your stomach. You just wanted to hear him say it. Just admit it. _Admit you’d kill me so we can get this over with._ You close your eyes, tears spilling all over again.

“I can’t damnit!” He yells at you.

“Why not!” You scream back, your voice high and shrill and strained. 

“Because I love you!” Your eyes snap open. He’s in front of you, staring into your eyes, pain and sorrow glimmering in his beautiful, green eyes. The banging stops and then renews, but less intense.

“What?” The fear loosens its grip on your stomach. He had never said that to you, ever. Even as kids. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever heard him say that about any person. Just things. 

“I love you. I could never hurt you. I am so sorry if I ever made you think I would. I am so sorry.” He says over and over again. Each “sorry,” each “I love you,” causes the fear to loosen more and more. And the banging becomes softer and softer, the sense of urgency rapidly subsiding. 

“Dean…” His lips go to meet yours, and you allow your body to sink against him. 

And then your eyes open. You place a hand against your eyes, and there are tears running down your face. You look around. You’re in an abandoned warehouse, similar to what you experienced in your djinn-induced dream. Everything felt surreal and dull. Your head was pounding painfully. 

“She’s awake!” You hear Charlie’s voice. She runs up to you, her face also tear stained and puffy. She must have had a pretty bad one too. You hear Sam’s voice, almost in the distance, calling for his brother. 

“Y/N!” Dean’s voice breaks through the fog in your brain. 

“Dean?” You look up, and Dean has you wrapped in his arms. "Oh Dean!" You hug him back, burying your face into his chest. You take a deep breath of the man you loved. He'd said it. He actually said it!

"I mean it Y/N. I do-" You leaned away from him and placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. 

"Nu'uh. Those words are for my ears only." You smile at him playfully, fear and dread finally draining from you as you catch a peep at the perplexed look on Sam's face. Charlie's, however, was far more knowing as she smiled at you and threw a thumbs up your way. Her eyes, however, were distant. You could understand. Being in that djinn nightmare was exhausting. 

“I know I was just asleep, but can we head home now? I need a nap.” You tell the group. They all nod in agreement and you leave the warehouse. The Winchesters insist on stopping by the former Dr. Jennifer O’Brien’s home, to see if the Djinn daughter was still there. You and Charlie stayed in the car while the brothers checked it out. For the first time, you didn’t complain, and neither did Charlie. You both just sat there, in the back seat, quiet. 

“You okay?’ You asked, breaking the silence. She jumped a little at the sudden noise, and then smiles sheepishly. 

“Yeah. ‘Course.” You raise an eyebrow at her, unconvinced. You knew she wasn’t because you weren’t. “Alright, I’m not. But I will be.” She admits in her raspy, tired voice. 

“I was burned at the stake.” You told her. 

“Ouch. Stuck in a horror video game.”

“Yikes.” You answer back. 

“Nothing a little light reading couldn’t fix.”

“Send them to me, please!” 

“I already planned on it.” 

“I love you.”

“Don’t let Dean hear you say that. I’d be happy to steal you from him.” She winked at you. Normalcy was beginning to set back in and you appreciated it. 

After a few minutes, the boys came back and you were all finally heading back to homebase. Sam said that the bedroom where the young girl must have been staying was ransacked, like someone packed in a hurry. Where she had gone, she wasn’t home anymore, which meant there was a rogue, and inexperienced djinn on the loose. But since no one knew where to begin to look, there wasn’t much that could be done. Scrying on a monsters didn’t work very well either, because you’d just get the location of every djinn in the area. Not a bad thing to go and eliminate, but that was a scavenger hunt for a fresher group of Hunters, and not the four ragged ones that were in the Impala. It would be left as another Hunt for another day.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

You said goodbye to Charlie in the Bunker and let the boys walk her out. They had known her longer and deserved their own goodbye, not to mention you were still tired from the emotional ordeal of the previous day. You put the finishing touches on Sam’s new, beefed up potion, and then sat in your bedroom, staring at the ceiling. You couldn’t get the little boy’s face out of your mind. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like, having a little clone of you and Dean running around the Bunker, taking turns watching him and you each went on Hunts. No, you’d probably retire if you’d had kids. Not that you were entirely sure that Dean even wanted kids. Your hand subconsciously went to your belly, remembering painfully what you had lost. The djinn had stirred up a lot of old memories, memories you had tried hard to bury and move on from. 

The door knocked as it opened up. Dean was standing in the doorway, looking at you, a little embarrassed, a slight hint of shame, and a whole lotta love and concern. You scoot over, tapping the empty side of the bed, inviting him to join you. He lays down, you feel the bed sink slightly under your combined weight, and you both lay there, staring at the ceiling together, your breathing syncing. 

“I love you.” He says quietly after a few minutes of silence. 

“I know.” You reply, wryly. He elbows you softly and you reply that you love him too. 

“We gonna talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? We already hashed it all out, right?” _Wrong…_

“Nu’uh. I know you, and I know you’ve always got fight left in you.” He replied, like he was reading your mind. You sigh deeply. 

“I know that you’re sorry. I know I should let it go, all of it. But sometimes, I can’t. I thought I could, but I’m having trouble, especially after Benny. A vampire, Dean. An actual monster compared to me.”

“I know. And I’m working on it.”

“The world isn’t black and white. I really hope you can see that one day.”

“I’m seeing it now. Listen, I’m not going to change my opinion that magic is addictive. I’ve seen more bad witches than good. I know you enjoy using it.” He says, hesitant. You don’t interrupt though. You’re going to see where he goes with this. He deserved at least that before you jumped down his throat again. Especially since he wasn’t entirely wrong. There was a high that came with a particularly strong spell and an overwhelming sense of power and elation. “If, for some reason, you start going down the wrong path, I’m not going to abandon you. I promise that. I’ll do everything, everything, in my power to help you. Or else, we go down together. Okay?” He turned his head to look at you. You turn to meet him. There was sincerity in his eyes that made you melt. 

“Okay.” You breathed in relief. “And ditto Dean Winchester. Anything happens to you, and I won’t stop either. I’ll move Heaven and Earth for you. Literally.” You wink at him. He chuckles softly, and turns back to the ceiling. He shifts slightly, leaving his hand in between you both, an open invitation. You slip yours into his, delicate against rough, although you noticed that you were beginning to earn your own callouses to math. You smile, happy with how life was, despite the hiccups in between. 

“So...Robby?” He asks out of nowhere, and you groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I won't lie. I'm starting a new job, going back to get my masters and running two DND campaigns, so it might be a while until I update again. Sorry... :/
> 
> But an end is in sight. I have ideas and I'm sure you will all like it. I'm probably going to do a second part that tackles the next series, but that will be even further off because I'm going to wait until I have the majority of the story done and outlined before I start posting, that way there aren't any long hiatuses.


End file.
